The Perfect Praline
by The Goliath Beetle
Summary: Chocolatier Lovino Vargas is trying to juggle a relationship, an important chocolate-making contest and his pesky rival, Francis, all while being short-staffed. He has absolutely no time to look after a pneumonia-ridden victim of near-drowning. Even if he finds Antonio extremely intriguing. -Chocolate Shop AU, Spamano, TW for suicidal thoughts/references- ON HIATUS.
1. Chapter 1

The Perfect Praline

* * *

**A/N: Forget it, I'm not on hiatus. It's too much trouble. Having said that, I **_**cannot **_**promise quick updates for this fic because I'm way too busy. (I really should take a fanfic break, shouldn't I? But my brain just does not shut up.) **

**Felicia Vargas – Fem!North Italy**

_**Netherlands and Belgium are not related to each other in this fic.**_

**This story takes place in a fictional town/city/country. **

_**Warnings for suicidal thoughts/references. **_

**Also, I'm not well-versed with anything medicine related, so if I've gotten facts/details/whatever wrong, I'm so sorry. I'm just a lowly history student who believes that an aspirin and some sleep is a good enough cure for anything :'D **

* * *

"_My momma always said: life was like a box of chocolates. You never know what you're gonna get." _– A quote from the movie _Forrest Gump_.

* * *

Nestled between an ATM and a salon was The Shop. Everybody knew it. Ebony door and gleaming windows, like portals to another universe. Children stood outside it for hours, mooning at the chocolate sculptures of Easter Eggs and Santa Clauses and Valentine hearts, depending at the time of the year. Even when there was nothing to celebrate, the sculptures remained, new ones every week. Woodland animals, footballs, anything. Because nobody ever needed an official festival to eat chocolate.

And then there were the pretty glass plates holding up truffles, pralines, squares, bars, even small pots of sauces. Some were packaged in marketable gift boxes, others dangled in gossamer silvery drawstring pouches, their coloured aluminium foil just begging to be unwrapped, just begging to be eaten.

On entering The Shop, a customer was pulled in by its smells, its decor. There were no tables, just a large glass case displaying an endless variety of chocolates. Comforting yellow lights made everything soft, but still bright enough to study the way the chocolates shone. The walls had a still-life painting of fruit, a plaque which talked about the origins of chocolate and a framed certificate from a well-known food guide, naming The Shop to be the best in its business.

At the counter, there were displays of gift boxes in various sizes, pamphlets, take-home menus, visiting cards and an experienced chocolatier-cum-salesperson greeting everyone who walked into The Shop with a free sampling of their latest creations.

It was one of the best places in town to buy chocolate.

And though in common parlance, people called it The Shop, the sign on the door read _Theobroma Cacao._

Greek for the term 'food of the gods'.

* * *

-/-

* * *

"You smell of chocolates."

A giggle. A wet kiss.

"You _always _smell of chocolates, Lovino."

"Mmph – Emma – Emma – _mmph _– no, wait."

Lovino's hands, formerly around Emma's behind, unravelled and pushed her gently against the wall. They were in her narrow hallway, the dim yellow lights and three glasses of wine pumping through their blood making things seem a little less coherent. She was staring up at him, lips pink, face flushed, one sleeve sliding off her narrow shoulder. She was panting. She was a mess.

Any other night, Lovino would not have been able to resist. He would have physically carried her to the bed, carefully stripped off each article of clothing, and then—

Ugh. Thoughts like that were _not _helping. "Wait for what?" she asked delicately, all doll-like innocence and feigned naivety that did not befit the way her dress dipped and showed her cleavage.

This was a bad idea. "I can't stay the night."

Her pretty face showed nothing for a moment, but then her eyebrows furrowed together, a small pout forming on her lips. "What? Why not?"

Lovino was panting too. His tie was lopsided, the first buttons of his shirt undone. He bent took a few steps backwards and pressed himself against the opposite wall, staring at Emma as he took desperate breaths. He had to calm down and somehow put it back in his pants because dammit, he had a _job_ to do.

"A couple of bags of really exotic beans coming in early tomorrow. Felicia won't be in town until tomorrow night, and I need to examine them before I sign the papers."

Emma blinked, and then crossed her arms. An eyebrow raised, a deadpan expression. "I'm being rejected for—for _cacao beans_!?"

"They're from Ecuador! Very expensive! You have no idea what we had to do to get our hands on some of this stuff. I mean, they're _so rich_, just the _colour_—"

She raised a hand up to stop him, looking just downright unimpressed. "I don't care."

"You will care when I get a box full of truffles for you, _amore_," Lovino teased, coming closer to her now and wrapping his arms around her waist. "You, with your excellent taste in chocolates." He paused, and then as an afterthought, added, "And men."

"Men?" Emma snorted, angling her face away before Lovino could kiss her. "My boyfriend deserts me for a bunch of magic beans."

"He sounds like a bastard."

"Oh, you have no idea."

"Well, do you think you could forgive him if he came back tomorrow with his finest collection of pralines?" Lovino waggled his eyebrows as he leaned down to kiss her jaw. "Belgian pralines," he went on. Kisses on her jaw, her neck, her breasts. "My Belgian praline."

"Oh, don't even," Emma muttered, pushing him off lightly without a single change in expression. "You're going to have to try a lot harder if you want to make it up to me tomorrow. It'll take more than a box of chocolates, Lovino."

"All right." Lovino gave her his most charming smirk. "What can I do for you?"

"_Whatever I want_."

"Oooh, that sounds like fun. I'll _happily _serve you tomorrow."

This finally got Emma's lips to twitch upwards, the sign of a slowly forming grin. "Good."

"I really am sorry, though. I just remembered about these stupid cacao beans. Everything's been really hectic lately."

"Yeah…no, I understand." Emma pecked him on the lips. "Duty calls and all that."

Lovino let out a long, tired sigh. "Yeah…"

* * *

The town was a good thirty miles from the city, its chief attraction being the river. It cut across the place like a butter knife in a cake, with several small bridges at different parts of it. There were boats for people who cared for that kind of thing, but the river's sharp current meant that most people just left it alone.

Lovino walked by the bank with his hands in his pockets. He was exhausted, but rather pleased with the way things had gone with Emma tonight. Yes, he definitely wished he could stay the night with her, but work was work. Besides, he'd be really disappointed if he wasn't there to personally inspect the cacao beans tomorrow. Oh sure, Ivan _could _handle it, but Lovino was a perfectionist. He liked knowing just exactly what was going into his chocolates. Anyway, a chocolatier knew that the secret was really in the beans. Good quality beans meant good quality chocolate.

And quality, above all, was the most essential thing.

The spray of the river was as cold as ever. It was a rather chilly night, all things considered. Even if it was the middle of summer. His eyes wandered lazily over to the water. He loved it. He loved its jagged current and choppy temperament. He loved how it splashed and licked the ground as though savouring it. And he loved what it _did _to the town. It was the artery. The best restaurants and the sharpest stores overlooked it. Even some of the more privileged people here had their homes very close to the water, close enough to hear it chug by at night.

Lovino glanced at it now, liquid blackness with streetlamps and lights from people's windows making it glow. It really was quite pretty. Maybe he'd take Emma to one of those river-side cafes tomorrow evening, just to make it up to her. Both of them liked these things, so it would be-

What was that?

Lovino stopped for a second, peering straight at the water. For a moment it looked like he'd seen a—

Wait.

"What the…" and his voice trailed away, a combination of terror and disbelief.

A hand.

For a moment, it looked like he'd seen a _hand _in the water. Barely just a silhouette against the poor light from the streetlamps.

Wait, no.

"Shit!" Lovino yelped, his feet taking him automatically towards the river's edge. "Hey! Hey, can you hear me? Hello?! Shit!" Shaking, trembling, he reached for the phone in his pocket but his cold quaking fingers meant it simply slipped through, falling onto the grass and almost sliding into the water's edge.

The hand disappeared into the current.

"Oh fuck, oh fuck. Wait, hold on!"

He worked on instinct, wading into the river up to his knees and then deeper. Jesus god, was the water cold. And it seemed thirsty, too. It sucked Lovino in with one clean swoop, pulling him in deeper and forcing his head underneath.

But he was a strong swimmer, long hours at the high school pool coming back to him now. He kicked, he spluttered. His mind was consumed. One aim. Focus. Because someone else was drowning and Lovino was _not _going to let himself feel guilty about letting someone die.

Hands flailing. Feet not hitting the bottom. Water. Air. Cold.

The hand was freezing, soft and wet. Lovino's fingers brushed against it before the current dragged it deeper. So Lovino grabbed air and put his head underneath, blindly grasping for something—anything—something—oh! It felt like…like hair. Oh, he was pulling someone's hair!

His fingers locked themselves into place and he _yanked_, his hands reaching out for more—a shirt, a sleeve, an arm—it was all a matter of dragging and pulling, hoisting the body up with strength he had no clue he had, his brain on overdrive and yet strangely blank, lugging the person towards the shore with both of Lovino's arms under the man's shoulders, his lungs screaming for air and his brain slowly fizzing out as the excitement left him and the cold water ate into his bones.

Shivering. Teeth chattering. Terror, confusion. Not a person, just an unconscious body. Heavy like wet cotton, but at least on dry land.

But it wasn't over yet. What did they do in the movies and cop shows? Lovino turned the man over, onto his back, his fists hitting the man's chest and pumping his sternum through rasps of, "Wake. Up. Wake. Up." And with that didn't work, Lovino pushed him onto his stomach because he'd once read something about the tongue blocking the airway of an unconscious person if they were lying in the normal sleeping position. Instead, he dove for his phone, still lying at the water's edge.

"He-hello," he rasped when someone on the other end of the emergency helpline answered. "Th-there's a m-man. He was d-drowning but I g-got him out but he's n-not waking u-up." The cold was making it hard to talk. Lovino could feel his body going absolutely numb. He stammered some vague location and begged for them to hurry up. When he finally cut the phone, it was with renewed energy. "H-hey, you've g-got to k-keep breathing. Help is on th-the way."

* * *

"I figured you could use some coffee."

It had been _hours_. It was almost two in the morning now, and Lovino was sitting in a cold hospital chair wearing clothes donated by Girl Scouts. His hair was more or less dry, but his eyes stung and his body ached. He wasn't sure why he was waiting. Something about police reports. Something about the drowning victim himself. Lovino didn't want to leave. He felt…responsible, somehow. Responsible for the man's safety.

Lovino tiredly raised his head. The waiting room was poorly lit, one nurse sitting with a terrible squint behind a desk reading a Mills and Boons. Alfred was standing before him, for some strange reason dressed in full police-officer uniform. It was the middle of the night, why did he look like he was still on duty?

Alfred was holding out two Styrofoam cups of hospital coffee, and offered one of them to Lovino with a soft smile.

"Thanks," Lovino mumbled, reaching out for it. His fingers curled around the warm cup, soaking in the heat the best he could.

Alfred's smile didn't go away. Instead, he sat down beside Lovino, gazing at him with gentleness and affection. Lovino wished he would just stop. The last thing he needed right now was Officer Alfred Jones and his stupid compassion.

"It was really brave, what you did. You're a hero."

"I thought you were the hero," Lovino retorted weakly, taking a small sip of the coffee. He didn't comment on how sweet it was.

"Yeah, but tonight, you were. There's no question. I mean, this guy could have drowned. You could have too."

"Whatever." Lovino didn't want to think about it. The memory brought back the same panic and confusion. "I just did what any decent person would do."

"Rubbish. Any decent person would have called the professionals. By the time they arrived, it would have been too late."

"Alfred, shut up, I swear. I don't want to talk about."

"Okay, okay." Alfred paused and then took a sip from the coffee. "Ugh, I think I overdid the sugar."

"You always overdo the sugar. You'll get diabetes."

"Says the guy who owns a chocolate shop."

"Shut up."

Alfred's laugh was tired and soft. "You haven't changed a bit."

"Shut up, Alfred."

Neither of them made eye-contact for a moment, but then Lovino glanced up for a second and locked his eyes into Alfred's polished blue ones. "Any idea how the guy's doing?"

"The drowning victim? No word yet. I flashed my badge and everything too, but the doctors just kept shutting me down. But I get the feeling he'll be fine. Narrow escape. Did you even see what happened?"

"No. I told you, I just saw him drowning. He was probably drunk or something and fell into the water."

"Probably. But I'll still need to write a stupid report and all that. I just wish they'd let me talk to him. I managed to get a hold of his wallet, though. It's empty, but there's a pretty badly damaged credit card." Alfred pulled a tattered looking lump of leather from his pocket, opened it and took out a rectangular piece of plastic with the transparent film peeling off and the magnetic strip missing. "It says here his name is Antonio Fernandez…something. Carr-something."

Lovino took it from Alfred gently, stared at the barely-legible letters and slowly said, "Carriedo. I think."

"Thanks." Alfred took put the wallet and card away, took another sip of coffee, grimaced again, and then finally sighed. He removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes before yawning. "I want to go home."

"Mmh. You probably should. It's late."

"Yeah…I think I will." He glanced at Lovino now. "Can I drop you home? You've had a rough night, I don't want you to exert yourself."

"Don't bother. I'm fine."

"Is Felicia home? I don't know if it's a good idea for you to be alone right now."

Lovino's fingers tightened around the Styrofoam cup. "Shut _up_," he snapped. "It's fine. I'm okay. I'll just walk. Or call a taxi."

"But it's late!"

"Alfred."

"But—"

"What exactly is your grand plan? Feli isn't home. She's never home these days, she lives with her boyfriend now. And even then, they're on some two-day nature retreat or something. I'm alone. Are you planning on letting me stay on the couch at your place? Would Kiku be okay with that?" The second the words left his mouth, Lovino found the energy to stand, march over to the nearest trash can, and dump the remainder of his coffee. He turned, ignoring Alfred's hurt expression. "Quit being so overprotective."

"I'm not being overprotective," Alfred mumbled as he got to his feet, lowering his eyes to examine his shoes. "I'm just…I'm just doing my job."

"Whatever," Lovino snapped, rubbing his face again. His muscles felt heavy. Moving was difficult.

Alfred sighed, and neither of them spoke for a moment. Finally, he cleared his throat and began, "Um, listen, I meant to talk to you about something…"

"What?" Lovino asked sharply, narrowing his eyes to feign anger he didn't entirely feel anymore.

"Well…" Alfred replied, digging his hands into his pockets to appear composed. "Some of my stuff is still with you. A couple of shirts and my Xbox."

"Oh, yeah." Lovino made for the plastic chair and sat down again. Alfred did the same. They didn't look at each other. "I've kept it all in a box under my bed. I keep forgetting to return it."

"And you've left a few books at my place. Those really boring classics you like to read."

"I'd like them back," Lovino simply replied.

"Sure. I'll drop them by at the shop tomorrow?"

"Sounds good. I'll get your stuff, too. I'm sorry, I really don't know how I kept forgetting to return it."

"Nah, it's okay. It happens." Alfred then let out a short laugh. "I'm just glad you're not like my last ex. He burnt all my stuff."

"Wow. I'm not that much of an asshole."

"No, you're not." Alfred smiled warmly at him. "You're a really nice guy, you know?"

Lovino rubbed his face again. "I guess I'd have to be, right? Risking my life to save a stranger from drowning and all that jazz?"

"Oh yeah, don't even get me started. That was really cool. I'm so proud."

"Shut up."

"Okay, geez." Alfred stood, gulping down his hot, sweet coffee without even wincing. Didn't it burn him? "Last chance. Do you want me to drop you home?"

As if Lovino's pride would allow for that.

"No. I'll just walk."

Alfred rolled his eyes. "You've not changed _one bit_. Still so stubborn."

"Cheers to that," Lovino replied bitterly.

He could still hear Alfred's laugh as the policeman walked off, shaking his head.

Honestly, Lovino wasn't sure what to do with himself. Walking home right now was physically impossible. But he'd be damned if he was going to let Alfred drop him. He wanted to stay angry at Alfred, bitter, like the chocolates he liked to eat. But Alfred made it too difficult.

Besides, he knew that his muscles were aching because he hadn't had any serious physical activity in _years_. Maybe walking off the pain would actually help. Because if he just lazed around, his body would become tight and then it would be impossible to move at all.

Another half an hour ambled past.

He sat back against the chair and closed his eyes. Cacao beans from Ecuador…He had to get home. The delivery guys would come by eight, before the shop even opened for business! Lovino had to be there! He'd asked Ivan to come in early tomorrow, just to have a second opinion, but he _had _to be physically present. He'd been working on this chocolate recipe for too damn long. He wouldn't let poor quality beans get in the way of this.

But…Lovino couldn't just _leave_, could he? What about that Antonio guy? Where was his family? Alfred hadn't mentioned anything about that…Plus, Lovino had saved his _life_. It felt rather awkward to just walk away, like some sort of silent, shadowy saviour of the night. He couldn't just go Batman on Antonio, could he?

(_Lovino Vargas, chocolatier by day, Batman by night. A life shrouded in mystery, adventure and 70% cacao liqueur truffles._)

Oh, yes. That could be a nice introduction. Now for his suit…Well, he wasn't going to wear his underwear over his pants. He'd never understood why these superheroes liked to dress like male strippers, but he was going to have no part in it. Well, he'd wear black because he was a Hero of the Night. His black leather jacket would do well. What about a mask? Wasn't anonymity a requirement?

"What the hell is wrong with me?" he wondered aloud, enough for the nurse at the reception to glance up and raise an eyebrow.

"I'm sorry, were you waiting for a doctor?" she asked kindly.

Lovino just shook his head. Although perhaps it was a good idea to get a CAT scan, just to be sure he didn't have a brain injury and wasn't losing his mind. He was so tired…

"Do you know anything about a patient who came in here a couple of hours ago?" Lovino asked, standing, wincing and walking up to the nurse. "Antonio Carriedo something. He almost drowned."

She stared at him for a moment, but then her face brightened. "Ah, right. You're the fellow who dragged him out of the water. Exceptionally brave, I must say."

Lovino turned scarlet instantly. He couldn't take compliments like this well. He could accept them if they had anything to do with the chocolate he made, but if random ladies started calling him 'exceptionally brave', well, he'd prove them wrong by running the hell away.

"Uh, thanks," Lovino mumbled awkwardly, scratching the back of his head and averting his eyes. "Anyway, do you know how Antonio's doing?"

"Oh, right, hold on a moment." She tapped something on her computer, said nothing for a few seconds, and then looked up with a smile. "You should be able to visit him now."

"Really?" The thought made Lovino's insides go cold. As though he wasn't feeling damp and shivering already. What would he say to Antonio? What would Antonio say to _him_? Was there some sort of script he was supposed to stick to? Lovino knew how to visit people in hospital—he'd done that a lot during his grandfather's last days—but that had been more emotional and personal and all about wrapping up the old man's affairs. What would he say to Antonio, a man he barely knew, but had saved the life of? A simple _hey, how are you, by the way I pulled you out of the water_, wouldn't quite do, would it?

Why wasn't there a manual for this?

_How to Save A Life: What to Do, What to Say, What to Think_

Maybe he ought to write one.

"Yes, really!" the nurse replied, before rattling off his room number.

"But isn't only family allowed to visit?"

"Honey, he wouldn't even be breathing right now if it weren't for you. I think you can go in."

"…All right."

So, slowly, hating each step he took, Lovino dragged himself to the elevator. He tried to focus on the ache in his body. It would distract him from the inevitable and potentially disastrous conversation that was to follow.

The hospital was just as he remembered it from all those years ago. Nothing much had changed, except for the fresh coat of paint on the walls. His grandfather's room had been a few floors above Antonio's. Lovino remembered bringing little squares of chocolate for the old man. He was still learning back then. Opening the chocolate shop had been his grandfather's dream, one that never came true. It was during those last months that Lovino had finally saved enough money to start one. He'd try out new recipes and offer it to the other patients.

And that was what chocolates became to him.

Seeing all those sick, dying people light up whenever Lovino brought over some…

Lovino treasured and missed his earliest customers.

Antonio's room was at the very end of the corridor. He swallowed before walking up to it.

But before he could open the door, a tall, lean man with long ponytailed black hair stepped out of the room, his face freezing in surprise as he almost collided head-on into Lovino. "Oh! Sorry!" He was wearing a white coat and had a stethoscope around his neck.

"No, it's my mistake." Lovino stepped aside. "Are you Antonio's doctor?"

"The young man?" the doctor asked, glancing to the half-open room door. "Yes. I'm Dr. Yao Wang. I understand you saved his life?"

"Word travels fast," Lovino muttered, looking away.

"It sure does. Are you here to visit him? Visiting hours are long over, you know. And you're not even family."

"The receptionist said I could," Lovino weakly replied, already feeling attacked under Dr. Wang's clinical stare.

The man sighed softly, glancing once more to the room. "He's unconscious, anyway."

Lovino's heart stopped for a moment. "Is he all right, though?"

Dr. Wang just shrugged. "He's out of the woods. Stable, for now."

"Oh," Lovino replied simply. "That's good." What else could he say?

Dr. Wang placed Lovino under another long, analytical look. He seemed to be thinking about something. Lovino could actually see conflict flitting through his dark eyes. Dr. Wang looked tired too. He seemed to be the sort of man who was always tired about something. Then again, it couldn't be an easy job. Working a nightshift in a quiet town like this? It must have been so frustrating. Nothing much ever happened here. Antonio almost dying was perhaps the most exciting thing that had happened to the doctor all week.

"I guess you can see him," Dr. Wang finally muttered, pushing open the room door fully. "Just for five minutes. And don't disturb him in any way."

* * *

How the hell was Lovino supposed to disturb someone who looked like a corpse? Antonio was gaunt. It was no wonder Lovino had been able to pull the man out of the water so easily. Thin, bony, his skin sheet-white and his brown curls falling like an unhealthy mop over his eyes. He lay completely still. Had it not been for the monitor quietly beeping away, Lovino wouldn't even have guessed he was alive.

Antonio also had an oxygen mask on his face, an IV dripping something transparent into his blood. Lovino couldn't figure out what to do? Stare at him? Talk to him? Walk out? He'd been dreading about having a conversation with the man, but now that Antonio was in no shape to talk, he just felt awkward.

It was like puzzle pieces that didn't fit. He didn't belong here. All he could do was stare at the guy and think, _I saved someone's life. I've done something significant. He's alive because of me._

…Or because of sheer luck, who knew? Lovino had no idea what he'd been doing after he'd pulled Antonio out of the water. It had been a blur of CPR (learnt entirely from TV shows) and praying to the gods of all religions.

"I should learn this first-aid stuff properly," he whispered out loud.

What a crazy wake-up call.

Lovino hadn't been prepared to save Antonio.

It had been luck.

Dr. Wang's face slowly peered at Lovino from behind the door, and the man gave Lovino a curt nod.

Lovino turned back to Antonio for a moment. "…See you tomorrow, I guess," he mumbled quietly, spinning on his heels with his hands in his pockets as he softly walked out of the room.

* * *

—_comes the sun, little darling, here comes the sun,_

_And I say, it's all right,_

_Little darling, it's been a long cold lonely winter,_

_Little darling, it feels like years since it's been here,_

_Here comes the sun, here comes the sun,_

_And I say it's all right—_

"It's NOT fucking all right!" Lovino shouted, still barely awake. His words were heavy and slurred, so it sounded more like, 'Ss not fugging allriaii!' His arm flailed out, his muscles screaming in pain as he hit the mobile phone singing away on his nightstand. His attempt to switch off the alarm and go back to sleep however, backfired. His hand knocked the phone over, and it simply flipped as it crashed to the floorboards, still yelling at the top of its head about how it was all right that the sun was out and everything was fine and dandy and let's all wake up and be best friends.

"God, shut up, John…" Lovino groaned, burying his head under his pillow. Why did it have to be the Beatles version? Felicia had clearly changed his alarm tune again. He'd never let himself wake up to a Beatles song every morning. He'd end up hating the band forever if he did.

Oh no, this had Felicia written all over it. She liked to start her day with positivity and happiness, and sometimes got it into her head that Lovino should do the same. So she'd snatch his phone when he wasn't looking, and reset his alarm tune from Greenday's _Boulevard of Broken Dreams_ to something about sunshine and smiling and happiness and rainbow unicorns or whatever Felicia was in the mood for at that moment.

It wasn't like Lovino had set a Greenday song as his alarm because he was angsting about something. But the guitar and the drums and that guy's loud unhappy voice woke him up in a better mood than cheery crap ever did.

He ran a fucking chocolate shop. There wasn't much to be angsting over, really.

"Oh god."

The chocolate shop.

The cacao beans from Ecuador.

What time was it!?

At once, Lovino shot out of bed and dove for his phone, which was still yelling on and on about _sun, sun, sun, here it comes_, and switched it off. When the mobile went blissfully quiet, Lovino blinked, pressing his eyes to see stars. Doing that always woke up for at least a few seconds.

His mobile quietly told him: _9.30 AM_.

"Oh god."

Forget the delivery boys, who were supposed to be there by eight, _nine thirty was when the shop was supposed to open for business._

How had he overslept? Why did his body _hurt _so much? Lovino wasn't just wake-up-in-the-morning tired, he was I-can't-walk-someone-carry-me tired. Also, whose clothes was he wearing?! He couldn't recognise this tacky red shirt or those scruffy jeans. Lovino would _never_—

Oh.

Suddenly, everything came rushing back to him, the memories almost physically knocking him over and onto the bed again. Emma. The hand in the water. The hospital. Antonio.

Had all of that been _real_? Lovino half expected Emma to walk to the bedroom wearing nothing but her underwear and a catlike smile, saying, "You passed out after we…you know." And then Lovino would have realised all of it was just an intensely messed up dream.

But there was something fundamentally wrong with this theory. Lovino would never just pass out after sex. He was _Lovino_, for crying out loud. Saving someone else's life was a good enough alternative to that, so he'd take it.

He couldn't waste any more time, though. Lovino bolted out of bed as fast as he could, grabbed the first outfit he could find and ran to the bathroom.

Lovino had the advantage of owning an apartment less than two minutes away from _Theobroma Cacao_. It wasn't a very fancy apartment, but he still really liked it. It was old—the whole building was old—with wooden floorboards and creaking doors. There were two bedrooms. One was Lovino's, and the other used to be Feli's, before she decided to move out and live with Ludwig instead. Lovino's favourite part of the house was the window in the living room—or rather, the metal awning right outside it. It was wide and long, and exactly at the level of the window. On long nights, Lovino would pour himself a glass of wine and climb out there, sitting for hours and hours, sometimes until the sun rose. Though he didn't live very high up, from there he could see the horizon and the rest of the town. It was magic.

Right now, he barely even glanced at it.

He just ran out of the bathroom with his shirt buttons messed up, and dove for the first shoes he could find: an ugly pair of floaters someone had given to him as a birthday gift. And then Lovino almost flew out of the apartment, taking the stairs (there was no elevator) three at a time, exiting the building and then running around the corner, where his precious shop rested between the ATM and the salon.

All the lights were on and the shop windows were dressed up as usual. Ivan was in. Lovino flung open the door, simultaneously shouting, "I'm here! I'm here!"

Which would be fine, if he hadn't been greeted with complete silence.

Lovino buckled, hands on his knees as he groaned in pain and panted for air. Why was he so unfit? His muscles were aching even more today.

The shop looked like it was ready for work, but the counter was completely unmanned (something that irritated Lovino enormously). The door behind the counter, labelled _Authorised Personnel Only _was shut. Lovino walked around the glass display case and pushed the door open. It was unlocked. Ivan definitely was here.

"Ivan?" he called out.

The kitchen.

The kitchen was the love of his life.

If it was legal, he would marry the kitchen.

She was absolutely _gorgeous_—she, not it. Her tiles were pristine white, like her walls. She had these beautiful metallic counters and platforms, and was stocked with the most graceful sort of heavy machinery there ever was. Equipment for roasting and winnowing, stone grinders and conches, machines for tempering…there was even an entire cupboard full of moulds, and a freezer to make the chocolate cool.

God, Lovino was so in love with her. She was the most beautiful thing in his whole life. She was the reason for his existence.

She was his kitchen.

"Ivan?" he called gently. He wasn't here either, even though all the machines were running. Lovino loved the sound they made, the whirring and the chugging and the humming, and all the smells in this kitchen. Lovino's nose had lost sensitivity to the scent of chocolate (he'd been doing this for a very long time…), but sometimes when he inhaled very sharply he could pick up a slight whiff. It could keep him happy for hours.

There was only one place Ivan would be. Lovino walked down the length of the kitchen towards a smaller door titled _Toilet_, and softly knocked. "You in there?"

No answer.

But a second later, Lovino heard the flush and suddenly, Ivan had stepped out.

"I hate talking when I'm in the loo," he explained happily.

"Too much information."

"Good morning, Lovino!" Ivan said in response, shutting the bathroom door behind him and walking towards the machines. "You look awful, you know that, right?"

It unnerved Lovino how Ivan could say these things with that same cheerful smile on his face. "I know," he muttered, rubbing his eyes. He really needed to sleep. "I've had a long, dramatic night."

"Dramatic?" Ivan asked, raising his eyebrow slightly as he peered into the tempering machine, watching the liquefied chocolate slosh around. He scratched the papery cap over his head (Lovino always stressed on keeping the head covered. This was a professional kitchen, after all) before saying, "Everything okay?"

"I guess," Lovino replied.

"Your head is uncovered."

"Goddammit." The first thing Lovino did was rush to the cupboard by the kitchen's entrance and pull out his own cap and apron. Once his hair was tucked away, "Did the delivery guys show up?"

"Yes," Ivan replied without looking at him. "I inspected the beans, since you weren't there. They were perfect. I signed the papers and everything." Gesturing to another door across the floor, he said, "I've kept them in the storage room. Would you like to have a look?"

"Yes." Great. This was exactly what he'd wanted to avoid. Now he'd missed his chance to inspect the beans. What if Ivan had missed something? What if they were not as good as Lovino wanted them to be?

"Oh, Lovino, wait!" Ivan called out before Lovino could even take one step in any direction. "Before I forget, your sister called. She said she's coming home in two hours. She had to leave earlier because apparently Ludwig's boss called for an urgent meeting and he had to run. Interrupted their holiday. She was really upset about that."

"She'll get over it," Lovino muttered tersely, making for the storage room. "Anything else?"

"Uh, let me think. There was something…oh yeah. I got a call from one of the applicants. I don't remember his name. The one with the really scary tattoos. I told him you hadn't decided yet."

It seemed like the only people who'd applied to their _Help Wanted _ad in the papers were bored housewives, ex-convicts and teenage girls with nasally, high voices.

"Just between you and me," Lovino replied, glancing at Ivan for a moment, "All of them suck."

Ivan laughed. "Yes! Remember that one who tried to threaten you in the job interview? I had a good time punching his face."

Lovino had tried very hard to repress that memory. It wasn't so much being threatened that was scary. With Lovino's mouth, he was surprised he hadn't been threatened more often, actually. It was the sheer joy on Ivan's face as he pounded the guy's teeth in before physically lifting him off the ground and dropping him outside. That was the actual scary part. Lovino suppressed a shudder.

"Oh, and there's one more thing." Now, Ivan's tone became a little graver. He blinked at Lovino worriedly, his blue eyes—purple, in the right lighting—clouding over with concern. "Alfred stopped by when he was making rounds."

"Oh?" Lovino bit the inside of his cheek. "Did he drop by my books? He said he would."

"No, I don't think he did. But he told me to tell you that he's going to check in at the hospital during lunch, and would you like to join him, since you were so fantastic yesterday." Ivan blinked again, taking a step closer to Lovino. "Tell me the truth. Are you sick? Are you _dying_? Is _Alfred _dying?"

"Hell no," Lovino replied quickly, his eyes going wide. "Nobody's dying, okay? Alfred's talking about what happened last night." Lovino paused, wondering whether to tell him. But then, Ivan seldom made a big deal out of things. He wasn't Felicia. "I was coming back from Emma's place when I saw someone drowning and saved them. Alfred has to write an incident report and speak to the guy firsthand, but the man was still unconscious. I don't think I'm supposed to sit in when Alfred speaks to Antonio—that's his name—but I guess if he's inviting me, I can go, right? It's not against the law, is it?"

Ivan just stared. "Oh, wow. You weren't kidding when you said you had a dramatic night."

"I'm your regular superhero," Lovino quipped. "Don't tell Felicia. She'll make it into this big…thing."

"But it is a big deal, you know?"

Lovino shrugged. "I'm going to go check on those beans now."

Ivan's face brightened at that. "They're a work of art. You'll see."

* * *

They really were.

They were in jute sacks. The store room was full of beans and equipment and stacks of boxes and foil, but his eyes fell on the two huge brown sacks right in the middle of the room. The air was cool and dry. That was important, he didn't want anything getting mouldy. He undid the rope around the sacks and just _gazed _at what he saw.

The smell was overwhelmingly bitter. When he touched them, they felt like soft pieces of polished wood. The colour was perfect. Deep coppery brown, delicate speckles of black.

"How are they?" Ivan asked when Lovino stepped out and quietly shut the storage room door behind him.

"They're perfect."

Ivan's grin was infectious. Lovino caught himself smiling slightly too. "We've worked so hard on this recipe. I'm almost terrified to try it. I mean, it's beautiful in theory, but what if it ends up sucking?"

"It won't suck," Ivan promised. "You've applied your chocolaty genius to it, after all."

_Chocolaty genius_. Ivan made Lovino sound like a character on Mickey Mouse and Friends. He just shook his head slightly. "Let's just start work."

Lovino was so proud of his business model. It was so diverse! _Theobroma Cacao _didn't just sell finished chocolate. It also sold speciality items like Roasted Nibs or baker's chocolate. In fact, Lovino basically supplied to half the bakeries in the town and even a few in the city. In addition to that, the shop had a series of regular customers by way of offices and waiting rooms. They always needed something to keep people patient, and a box of chocolate on offer was the perfect way to calm people down. There was an old lady a few streets away who had too much money to spend and liked to have a monthly supply of Lovino's fanciest truffles. They even did deliveries to birthday parties and weddings.

The demand was great. There was only one problem. Ever since Ivan's older sister Katyusha quit, they'd been desperately short-staffed. Katyusha was married and expecting a baby, and she hadn't wanted to work while pregnant. Though Lovino had been obliged to offer maternity, she'd just handed in her resume. She preferred being a mother. And although Lovino couldn't fathom why anyone would give up chocolate for a screaming, mewling shit-maker, there was nothing he could do about it.

For the next few hours, Ivan worked in the kitchen while Lovino sat outside at the counter, waiting for customers. Probably for the best, since his body really ached. All he could think about was last night. Antonio. Was he conscious now? Was he doing all right?

He had to visit him. Alfred had asked him to come during the lunch break, so that was what he would do. He had to speak with Antonio. Not knowing was deeply unsettling. Lovino felt like he'd formed a bond or something, pathetic as that sounded. He couldn't stop thinking about Antonio's sick, gaunt figure lying on that hospital bed like a corpse. He couldn't help thinking, _you've got to be okay. You can't die, because I saved your life. That's got to matter. _It had to matter. It just had to.

Nothing Lovino did really mattered much. He loved his chocolate shop to pieces, but he couldn't help shaking off the feeling that what he did didn't make a difference to anyone's lives. Not really.

* * *

"I just ran into Alfred on my way here. How could you _not _tell me? Lovi, he's so right! You're a hero! I want to give you a hug! Get over here!"

Oh god, Feli was back.

Lovino's sister was a head shorter than him, amber eyes and auburn hair always tied up in a messy ponytail. She was wearing a pair of jeans and a floral top, a charm bracelet jingling away to the rhythm of her smile. She practically pounced on Lovino, dropping her overnight bag in a heap on the floor, her bony but incredibly firm grip making his body scream for her to let go. Everything still hurt too much.

"Feli, it's really—"

"A very big deal! You saved someone from _dying_. You gave them a second chance to achieve all their hopes and dreams and fall in love and have children and—"

"I can't brea—"

She kissed both his cheeks and let out a noise that sounded like a chirp and a squeal. "Are you going to visit him? Now? You should take some chocolates to cheer him up! Oh, can I come? Please?" She finally let go of Lovino, who groaned as he fell back into his seat. "Was it really dangerous? Alfred made it seem like you fought the Loch Ness Monster to rescue him."

"Yeah, because the Loch Ness Monster would hang out in a weird little river in a weird little town."

Felicia laughed. "But seriously, the current is always so strong. It couldn't have been easy."

"It wasn't. Everything still hurts."

Feli gave him this long look. "You should go get a massage, that might help. I know this guy, Sadik, he owns this massage parlour. Do you want me to book an appointment for you?"

"There is no way I'm letting some strange guy touch me." Lovino wasn't _that _easy. Feli just laughed again.

"They have women too," Feli teased.

"I've got a girlfriend, but thanks for asking." _Speaking of Emma. _He hadn't texted her all day. After deserting her last night, Lovino knew he was going to have to work extra hard to get into her good books. He took out his phone, typing in something flirty and inappropriate before hitting send. No doubt Emma would reply with something equally lewd. Or maybe she'd respond with a winking face and hearts and kisses and stuff.

(These emoji things made his life difficult. They were so vague.)

Feli didn't even go into the kitchen and work, like she was supposed to. No, she merely washed her face before stepping out again saying, "Lovi, we're going to the hospital, right?"

"What? Already?"

"It's almost lunchtime!"

* * *

Lovino didn't know what to expect this time as he walked down the length of the hallway. Felicia was strangely quiet. She didn't like hospitals much, though. The whole 'Grandpa Has Cancer' thing had pretty much sealed her aversion to them forever. She stuck close to Lovino, her hand almost touching his, and as Lovino was about to open the room door, she said, "I'll wait outside. Wouldn't want to overwhelm him, right?"

"Up to you." Lovino could hear Alfred's voice from behind the door. At least he wouldn't be alone.

Alfred turned when Lovino entered, smiled widely, and stepped aside—just enough for Lovino to see Antonio.

Antonio was conscious. He had green eyes, almost like some sort of lime jelly praline filling, which stood out shockingly against his otherwise paper-white skin. Now awake, Antonio looked, if possible, even thinner. Actually undernourished. His face was sallow and his collarbone jutted out so sharply it could probably have cut a full bar of frozen baker's chocolate all the way through. His hair was this sort of pleasant hazel brown colour, although overgrown and messy. His fingers were long, thin and delicate, especially the way he kept them right now: over his lap, gently tugging at the corner of his blanket.

"Lovino!" Alfred called out. "We were just talking about you. Meet Toni!"

Lovino swallowed, closed the door behind him, but didn't approach the bed at all. He just stared frozen still at Antonio, who mirrored his blank expression. They just looked at each other, utterly wordless. It was finally Antonio who spoke.

"Hi." His voice was soft, extremely hoarse and very pained. It was so obvious that speaking hurt him.

"Hi," Lovino said back, finally taking one step towards the bed. "How are you feeling?"

Antonio offered a small, tired smile. "Better than yesterday."

Alfred chuckled. "Sense of humour. I like that."

Lovino watched Antonio give Alfred a lopsided smile. Then he turned back to Lovino and said, "Alfred was telling me what you did."

In an instant, Lovino felt his cheeks become warm. Antonio was looking at him with such gentleness, such soft-featured gratitude. The expression was too much to handle. Lovino lowered his eyes, pulling at his sleeves just for something to do. He hated it when the attention went straight on him. It was strange, but there were two sides to his shyness. Part of Lovino loved to have the attention on him. It was this part that came out with Emma, or his customers, or well, anyone who had anything to do with his chocolate shop. But when people like Alfred—or now, Antonio—stared at him like that, it made him feel small, vulnerable, awkward. He wasn't used to situations where people looked at him that _tenderly_. He never knew what to do in them.

"It was nothing," Lovino replied in a small voice.

"You saved my life," Antonio pressed, although he sounded more pained now. His hand went up to touch his throat lightly. "It's not nothing."

"You shouldn't talk so much if talking hurts," Lovino replied, lifting his gaze to meet Antonio's. This was easier. Telling people what to do.

Antonio actually _laughed_, although it sounded more like a shaky cough. Alfred gave him a pointed look. "Lovino's right. It's my fault—I had to talk to you about last night, so that must have exerted you, huh? But just take it easy for now."

"Oh yeah," Lovino said suddenly, his voice rising. Both Antonio and Alfred looked at him, identical expressions of curiosity. "What happened last night? How did you fall into the water?"

"Nuh-uh," Alfred said quickly, a cheeky grin and a jolt of mischief in his eyes. "That's a secret between Toni and I. Ain't that right, Toni?"

"No, it's okay. He saved my life. He deserves to kn—" but Antonio's body had had enough. He doubled over, clutching his chest as he coughed. They were _awful _hacking coughs that made Lovino think of smoke and fire and desert sand. Alfred had jumped into action, sitting by Antonio and rubbing his back. He gestured for the glass of water placed on the bedside table, and Lovino handed it to him, his brow creasing in worry.

When Antonio finally calmed down, Alfred had to actually wrap an arm around his shoulders to hold him up. Antonio looked about ready to pass out, but somehow still managed a smile as Alfred handed him the water. What must it have been like to almost die in water, and then have to drink it to feel better? What did Antonio make of that?

"Thank—"

"No, shut up," Alfred almost snapped, his eyes hard. He had that _I'm a cop so you better listen to me _expression on his face. "You just lie here and rest. I don't want to hear a word out of you for the next two hours, you got that?"

Antonio just blinked and nodded, the smile never fading. He fell back against the pillows. He looked like he wanted to go to sleep, but didn't want to seem rude.

"You can sleep if you want to," Lovino offered, not knowing what else do say or do. He felt completely useless.

"Yeah, don't worry." Alfred stood. "I need to step outside and make a call, anyway. Lovino?" he looked at him with an expression that was supposed to be very meaningful and symbolic.

So when Alfred stepped out of the room, Lovino followed him without a word of protest.

* * *

"You want to tell me how the fuck he fell into the water?" Lovino asked. Felicia was still standing outside, a frown on her face as she twirled the end of her ponytail between her fingers. After Feli and Alfred had exchanged hugs and stupid questions like, _so I've heard you moved in with Ludwig, huh? _and _How has Kiku been doing lately? _Alfred had sighed and slumped against the wall, taking out his glasses and rubbing them against his shirt. He was still in uniform, although it looked crumpled and untidy—very unusual. Alfred loved keeping his uniforms pristine.

"It's a bit of a situation," Alfred said simply when he put his glasses back on his nose. "As in, it's a situation because I like the guy and I feel really concerned about him."

"What happened?" Feli asked, her voice high and full of fear.

"He fell into the water as he was crossing one of the bridges. And get this, Lovino—he fell in because he was _dizzy_."

"What the fuck? Dizzy?"

"Yeah. Because he hadn't _eaten anything _in almost a week!" at this, Alfred threw his hands up in the air.

"What?" Feli asked, her expression changing rapidly from fear to shock. "Why not?"

"He's homeless," Alfred replied.

"That makes no sense." Lovino just gave Feli a tired look before adding, "He had a credit card. Remember? Last night?"

"Yeah, I asked him about that. He told me that it had been damaged ages ago. Not in the water last night, like we'd thought. I basically got the impression he was fairly well-off sometime in his past."

"Oh."

"Oh," Feli copied, slumping against the wall beside Alfred. "That's terrible. I hope he's eaten something now?"

"Yeah, he basically _inhaled _the food they gave him for lunch. It's gross hospital food, too." Alfred grimaced to show his disdain before continuing, "What sucks is his parents moved to Spain and he's not close with them."

"What about other family? Friends? Anyone? I mean, you can't have lived up to adulthood without knowing _somebody _who can help you out!" Lovino threw his hands up before letting them fall, the whole gesture making his arms and shoulders ache terribly. "I mean, come on!"

Alfred just sighed. He looked so sad. He always did that, internalising the pain of other people. "No friends, no family."

"That's harsh," Feli said quietly, looking at her feet. Her toes stuck out of red heels. After a short silence, she looked up again, tilting her head and asking, "May I say hello?"

"I don't know, Feli. He looked like shit. He might be asleep."

Feli just placed a hand on Lovino's elbow, her fingers barely brushing against his shirt as she smiled softly and nodded. It was one of those typical cryptic but reassuring smiles Feli gave before she made Lovino's life difficult.

* * *

"I got you a present."

Lovi was right. Antonio did look pretty bad. That's what she hated most about hospitals. How people just had to lie there in these unfriendly rooms full of scary, painful equipment, feeling weak and unwell. At least it was bearable when family and friends were around, but Antonio had nobody.

He wasn't asleep. He was just lying there, staring at the ceiling. She couldn't figure out what he'd be thinking of. But when she entered and spoke to him, he looked up, a little confused, and offered a small, exhausted smile. It seemed to light up his whole face.

"I'm Felicia. Lovino's younger sister."

"Hel—" Antonio managed before his voice broke. A hand flew to his throat and he winced, rubbing it gently.

"No, it's okay! Don't push yourself!"

He looked up at that point, giving her another smile and a questioning look as she approached. A hand dipped into the sling bag around her shoulder and she pulled out a small drawstring pouch. It was gossamer and silver, and in it were a set of five little milk chocolate squares covered in gold aluminium foil.

"They're chocolates," she told him simply, placing them on the bedside table. "I don't know if I'm allowed to give them to you, but chocolates always make me feel better, you know?"

Felicia had a sixth sense. She had this ability to guess a person's favourite chocolate flavour just by speaking to them for a few minutes. Sometimes she could pick flavours that they themselves didn't know they liked. But then she'd make them try it, and they'd fall in love. Feli had never been wrong before.

The milk chocolate always acted like a tester. Milk chocolate was delicious, but generic. Common. It was everywhere. Not to say that people who's favourite kind was milk chocolate were generic or common themselves—nobody was ever that simple—but it was always the safest thing to give to someone.

Antonio's face lit up. He gave her a wide grin. He really did have a nice smile!

"You're welcome," Feli told him with a grin on her face too. "I hope you like them. You know, Lovi made them himself! He makes chocolates! Well, I do too, but Lovi's technically the owner of the shop. And he's also the best chocolatier ever. Way better than me."

She studied the way his face changed when she spoke. First curiosity, then awe. He really was so cute.

"Anyway," she said, "I better go now. But Lovi and I will come visit you tonight? How about it?"

Antonio was about to open his mouth to try and say something, but Felicia quickly said, "No, don't! I could hear you coughing before. You really should rest your throat." A smile. "Feel better, okay?"

So Antonio just meekly nodded.

"Good! See you soon! I hope you like the chocolates!"

* * *

"You're quiet."

In the drive back home, Felicia hadn't said a word. It was just a fifteen minute journey really, but Feli could fill that up with idle conversation effortlessly. Now, she just stared out of the window, completely mute.

"Feli?" Lovino prompted, glancing at her. Did this have something to do with her leaving the nature retreat thing early? Lovino would murder Ludwig if he'd hurt her. He'd beat him to death with a tire iron.

"Hmm?" she mumbled, looking towards Lovino. "Nothing…I was just thinking."

"What about?" Lovino parked the car in front of the chocolate shop, but neither of them stepped out. Felicia sighed loudly, lowering her eyes to her lap. She flexed her fingers, studying her nail polish before saying, "I have an idea you're going to utterly hate."

"What?" Lovino asked, his stomach filling up with dread. The last time she'd said that, she'd announced her decision to move in with Ludwig.

She looked up, staring right into Lovino's eyes. _This can't possibly be good_, he thought, staring right back at her. "Well," she started, "We need another employee and you don't like any of the applicants. Antonio needs a place to stay and maybe even a job…"

"No."

"But—"

"We're not talking about this. No." Lovino threw open the car door, stepped out and slammed it shut. He knew he was being mean, but Feli couldn't possibly be serious, could she? What did they even know about Antonio, huh? Who was to say he wasn't a thief, a murder, a drug addict? Felicia romanticised people so much. She only ever saw the best in them, to the point where it was honestly reckless.

Besides, fundamentally, Antonio probably didn't know how to make chocolate. It sounded like one of those cutesy things like making pancakes or something, but it wasn't. There were plenty of recipes and tricks on the internet, but it was _so _much more than that. Making chocolate wasn't something anybody could learn overnight. It took years to perfect. To know what beans to choose, to know just how much to roast and winnow them, to know when to stop tempering, how to treat the moulds, how to add the flavours, it was an entire science in and of itself.

Quality was absolutely essential to Lovino. Why even bother doing something if you weren't going to give it your hundred percent? He wasn't going to jeopardise his precious business for Felicia's goddamn charity.

It simply wasn't going to happen.

* * *

_You lived._

I'm so sorry. I tried. I tried. I—

_Try again._

Roderich, I—I don't want to—this isn't who I want to be—

_You're miserable, aren't you? You miss me, don't you?_

I do! I do! I miss you so much. I love you! But—

_And it's your fault I'm dead._

Oh god, I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry. I—I'll never forgive myself. Please, please—

_Please let you go? But I can't. You have to let ME go, Antonio. And you don't want to do that, do you?_

…You're everything to me.

_Then join me. Join me, darling._

…But I don't want to die.

_You're enormously selfish for someone who killed your own fiancé._

Roderich—!

_You make me sick._

* * *

**A/N: This started out when I suddenly thought about how cool it would be for Lovino to make chocolate. Chocolatier!Lovino is something I need in my life. It's something the universe needs, okay? And then you have Antonio, who is, of course, damaged. Because I can't possibly write a Spamano where he is healthy. It's not right. Antonio has to be vulnerable.**

**Oh, um, when I say 'praline', I mean **_**Belgian pralines**_**, not American ones. Belgian pralines have fillings inside them. **

**Eh, we'll get to that scene later in the fic xD**

**Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this! I was going to make it longer, but this seemed like the perfect place to stop. Anyway, it's pretty long already (over 9k words!). Thanks for reading! Please review :D**

**P.S: Oh, and are you craving chocolate right now? ;D Muhahaha...**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: The Dufour Chocolate contest is completely fictional. Although I wouldn't be surprised if there really was a chocolate contest with a similar name, since Antoine Dufour was credited with inventing the chocolate truffle.**

**Also, I have this thing for SpaAus. In a past/historical sense, it might actually be one of my favourite pairings. Spamano is perfection, of course, but there's something about SpaAus that just appeals to me. I can't imagine either Roderich or Antonio actually making it work, but I can totally see them trying. I think it's the tragedy about it that I really like XD**

_**There is a RomaBel scene in this chapter. I'm so sorry, bear with me D:**_

* * *

"Sleeping on the job, eh?"

"Mmh."

"I need some of those dark chocolate pecan squares."

"Mmh."

"Did you hear me?"

"Mmh."

"Your face is stupid."

"Mmh."

"You're a wanker."

"Mmh."

"Francis says your chocolates are the worst things he's ever had."

Lovino's eyes only opened because somewhere in the back of his head, the word _Francis _registered, and automatically, the blinding rage of hell filled his soul. He almost shot out of his seat, still half-asleep, crying, "Fuck him and his stupid French ass," before swaying and almost falling sideways in his stupor.

He managed to balance himself against a wall, blinking and pressing his eyes. When he opened them next, Arthur's bored, partially amused face swam into view. Arthur was in his police uniform too, his cap under his arm. "Yes, I'd love to fuck him and his stupid French ass, but for that I'd need to woo him, and for that I need some of those chocolates." He said all of it with a completely straight face, making Lovino just gape at him silently for a few seconds.

Arthur was one of his oddest customers. He never actually enjoyed chocolate himself, but always bought some for Francis. And Lovino just couldn't understand that. Francis Bonneyfoy owned a chocolate shop himself. He was further up the street, though. His was called _Le Chocolat_. Initially, Francis had named it _Bonnefoy's Bonbons_, but that gave people the wrong idea.

Anyway, it wasn't like Francis actually needed an elaborate name. He made up for it by having the most ostentatious, obnoxious and tacky décor/recipes/aura of evil. Lovino absolutely _hated _him. Francis's shop turned up three years after Lovino's, and ever since then, they'd been competing for customers. What irritated the both of them was that their products were fairly similar and so were their prices—really, they needed the same ingredients so there wasn't much variation. Nuh-uh. In this business, it was all about presentation. Francis, with his stupid flirting and French words and blonde hair and unnatural good looks, had a head start. But Lovino had more customer loyalty, so really, it was always neck-and-neck.

Arthur had been comically in love with Francis for way too long, and had decided, for some reason, to woo the man with Lovino's chocolates. It made absolutely no sense to Lovino. He'd personally murder anyone if they so much as offered Francis's products to him.

In addition to the chocolate shop, Francis had a business partner named Gilbert. _Felicia had met Ludwig through him. _To think that Lovino might someday be related to Francis's best friend was enough to make his skin crawl. Anyway, Gilbert ran a bakery, selling all sorts of stupid cakes and pastries made from Francis's chocolate.

God, he hated both of them.

Chocolate was a bitter business.

"Dark chocolate pecan squares," Arthur repeated simply, his half-smile turning into a bit of a sneer.

"How many?"

"The usual, the usual."

Which meant a drawstring pouch of five. Lovino sighed, pressing his eyes again before sliding open the glass case. With a small pair of tongs, he picked out the chocolates, asking, "So how are things with you and the asshole?"

"The same. Your chocolates never seem to work. Felicia keeps telling me chocolate is an aphrodisiac but I doubt it."

"Yeah well, I'm pretty sure Francis flushes them down the toilet," Lovino replied simply. "Like he's going to eat anything his competitor makes."

"Actually, he does," Arthur replied mildly. "He quite enjoys them."

Lovino raised an eyebrow. He sometimes suspected this was corporate espionage. Arthur bringing over Lovino's newest chocolates for Francis to sample and then replicate. They really did have fairly similar produce…

But then, he wasn't going to turn away a perfectly good customer without further proof. Besides, if Francis liked his chocolate, well then, that'll show him.

"Alfred told me about last night."

"Not you too," Lovino muttered, opening one of the cabinets behind the glass case to take out a new drawstring bag. He had his back to Arthur, and just heard him laugh.

"I'm sure the whole town will know by this time tomorrow. Is that why you're so tired? I've never seen you sleep on the job."

"You pull someone out of the water if you think it's so funny. I can barely move. I'm so unfit."

"Well, you do make chocolate."

"Yeah but I'm careful not to eat too much of it."

"Cop training always left me sore," Arthur finally said, a smile in his voice. "The only thing that really helps is more physical exercise. Go for a run or another swim."

Lovino turned, carefully wrapping each chocolate square in foil and putting a small circular sticker on it to seal the edges. The sticker was tiny and golden, with the words _Theobroma Cacao _written in brown font. "Teach me CPR and stuff."

"Eh? What?"

"That'll be seventy-five bucks. Teach me first-aid." Lovino handed the now-filled drawstring bag to Arthur, saying, "Antonio's basically alive because he's fucking lucky. I may have pulled him out of the water but I had no idea what I was doing when I was trying to get the water out of his lungs. I don't want to be caught in another situation like that. I'd never forgive myself if the next person isn't as lucky. So teach me."

Usually, Arthur whined and bitched about how expensive everything in The Shop was, but this time he just blinked emotionlessly at Lovino.

"I'm not going to ask Alfred to teach me CPR, okay? I'll have to put my lips to his mouth and that's just not happening again. So it might as well be you."

"It's not kissing," Arthur slowly said, not sure exactly how to respond. "It's mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. You're breathing into the other person's mouth."

"That's sort of disgusting."

"None of the victims have ever complained about it," Arthur replied lightly, taking the chocolates and fishing out a hundred buck note.

"Well, of course not. They get to live, don't they?" It was only as the words left Lovino's mouth that it occurred to him that Arthur was being sarcastic. Oh. Wow, he really was sleepy, wasn't he?

Arthur's smile was small but wry. "You should get some rest. You must really be tired if you didn't catch onto that one."

"Yeah, there's a lot on my mind." Lovino handed Arthur the change, but then leaned in with a conspiratorial whisper. "How's Francis doing on the Dufour Chocolate Contest?"

Lovino wasn't sure who 'Dufour' was. The only 'Dufour' he knew was the man who invented the chocolate truffle, but he was fairly convinced that the two Dufours weren't the same. This one was probably just a rich businessman with no idea how to spend his money. Anyway, the contest was a pretty big deal around here. Famous chocolate shops and chocolatiers always participated, the winners getting a huge grant for their businesses, along with a certificate and a flawless reputation.

Basically, Lovino needed to win.

His whole life had come down to this contest. It took place every year, but this was the first time he'd ever felt truly _ready_. And when Francis got wind of Lovino's intent to participate, naturally, Francis sent an application too.

The contest was still many, many months away, although none of the details had been divulged yet. But there was no time to waste. Lovino had been working on the perfect praline recipe. He was going to win. He was going to win if it was the last thing he did.

"Francis doesn't tell me a thing about the contest," Arthur replied. "He knows I'm friends with you."

"Smart bastard."

"But he seems pretty pleased with himself."

"Arthur, Francis is _always _pretty pleased with himself."

"Ah, that's true." Arthur took the drawstring pouch and his change from Lovino, saying, "Thanks."

"Sure, no problem. Let me know if you get any more scoop on your boyfriend."

Arthur rolled his eyes. "How do you know I'm not telling him insider information about you?"

"Because you know no insider information about me, and even if you did, I wouldn't really care. You're basically just telling us about each other, and since you're playing the both of us that way, it's fair, don't you think? I mean, this isn't organised crime. I'm not going to shoot you in a mob hit or something." Lovino paused, adding, "Although I think I'd be a pretty good don, don't you?"

Arthur made a face and tapped the gun strapped to his waist. "Don't even go there, Godfather."

Lovino just sneered at him.

"Seriously though, you look like something the cat dragged in. Go get some sleep."

"Oh yeah, and whose going to man the store?"

At this, Arthur's face split into an evil grin. "Oh come on, it's not like you make any sales anyway." And he didn't even stop to study Lovino's expression of shock. He just winked good-naturedly and bolted.

"I make more sales than your stupid boyfriend does!" Lovino called after him, slighted. But the door just swung shut. _I mean, you just bought some chocolate from me, idiot. _Lovino couldn't stand Arthur, honestly. So he could never figure out how they were somewhat, kind of, best friends.

* * *

**Lovino: Hello, amore.**

**Lovino: Tell me something, are you free right now?**

_Emma: Lovi, I'm at work!_

**Lovino: I'm picking you up in five minutes. **

_Emma: I can't just leave!_

**Lovino: Oh. **

**Lovino: Okay. I understand.**

**Lovino: There's something I need to do, anyway.**

_Emma: …Okay __ Yeah. :) Have a nice day._

**Lovino: You too.**

* * *

"I'll need the largest bouquet of roses you have. Ditched my girlfriend last night, she's probably mad. I've got her favourite chocolates and I'm trying to surprise her, but she's sort of blowing me off, you know?"

Lovino practically preened at the look Emma gave him. She lowered her phone and blinked at him, before her eyes lit up and she grinned. "Well, sir, I think it'll take more than roses or chocolate."

"Right? I think so too." Lovino sauntered up to the counter leaned over it, his nose almost touching Emma's. "I was planning on taking her out for a coffee. Dragging her out of work with her cute little florist's uniform still on, take her to one of those river-side cafes she loves, and then take her shopping."

"Hmm, yeah," Emma replied, her voice full of humour. "That sounds more like it. But while you're here, you ought to buy her a bouquet of tulips, pink ones. Roses are so cliché. She might prefer tulips."

"All right. If the beautiful girl at the counter thinks so, then that's what I'll do. One very large bouquet of tulips, please."

Lovino was so fond of Emma. It was amazing how quickly and how much he was falling for her. She had always been a pretty frequent customer at his chocolate shop. He'd been with Alfred back then, but that collapsed and then when Lovino felt he could deal with life again, he actually befriended her. And now, six months on, here they were.

Lovino and Alfred had been together for almost a year when Alfred fell for Kiku instead. Lovino had been _so mad_, _so bitter_, but Alfred wasn't the type to intentionally hurt someone. He was so mature, so caring, so apologetic. Eventually, Lovino ended up forgiving him. He didn't know where he stood with Alfred now, but it wasn't uncomfortable. Maybe in a few months, they'd actually be friends.

He and Emma walked hand in hand, and Lovino mostly listened to her talk about her day. He was genuinely too tired to contribute, but Emma liked to talk, anyway. It was only about four in the afternoon. Feli was handling the customers, and Ivan was finishing up in the kitchen. Feli was very good with customers. She wasn't quite as focused on making a sale as Lovino was, but she kept their attention. Lovino's approach was far more profit-oriented. It was a good balance, because Feli could maintain good terms with everyone and Lovino knew how to not go bankrupt.

They sat at one of those cafes. Emma ordered for them.

But Lovino's eyes wandered to the river. It was less than a hundred meters away. There was a bridge. (Maybe Antonio fell off this one? Maybe the next?) There were little boats tied to the jetty. Lovino just listened to the river splash by.

"Hey? Lovi, hey? Is everything all right?" Emma asked gently, pausing her conversation to touch his hand. "You seem a little lost."

His eyes flickered to her. "You have no idea what happened to me last night."

Her brows knit together. "What happened?"

And so he told her.

Emma was first blank with disbelief, but then her face slowly transformed into _awe_. Her mouth hung open, her eyes were wide, and there was a strange sort of expression on her face. Like she was thinking, _my boyfriend's incredible. _Lovino just smiled weakly back at her, watching her features soften. She gave him a tender, sympathetic look. "I'm so proud of you." Emma's voice was so soothing.

Lovino didn't quite know how to respond, so he just went on, "Antonio's pretty beat up. He's in hospital now. You won't believe it, Emma, but he's homeless and he fell into the water because he hadn't eaten. You know, he sort of got dizzy and maybe even fainted."

"That's awful!"

"Yeah. It is. Seems like a nice guy, too."

"We should help him out." Emma was looking at Lovino very seriously. "Maybe a fundraiser or something."

Lovino smiled into his coffee. "Feli was suggesting I hire him. Can you believe it?"

Emma blinked. "Yeah, why not? That seems like an easier option."

He almost choked on his drink.

"What?" Emma pressed, sitting back in her chair, crossing her arms and giving him a stern look.

"Chocolate-making isn't something you can learn overnight! You need to be trained in the art!"

"So train him."

"I can't just—"

"You trained Ivan, didn't you?"

"But—"

"And I distinctly remember you once told me about how you taught Feli the basics before she learnt it professionally."

"But Feli's—"

"Lovino," Emma said, her voice dropping and her gaze softening. She leaned forward again, taking his hand. "Listen. You saved his life. But it doesn't end there. He still needs help."

Lovino felt his stomach flip. "He could be a murderer. A rapist. A drug addict."

"Then maybe you should get to know him better before you make a decision. He'll be in hospital for a while, anyway."

"And where would he stay?" Lovino asked coolly. "He's _homeless_. Even if, theoretically, he worked for me—I'm not saying he will, I'm totally against the idea—he'd need a place to live, new clothes, all his documents in order…it's endless. And I'm not trying to make excuses. Fundamentally, a chocolate shop can't hire someone who doesn't know how to make chocolate."

"He could always run errands." Now, Emma just gave him this flat, unamused, _how stupid do you think I am_ look. "You're always complaining you need someone to deliver chocolates or clean the floors or polish the counters. That doesn't require _training_, does it, Lovi?"

Lovino just gaped. "I'm not wasting my money on hiring someone to do something we've always just done ourselves."

"So train him."

"I'm not hiring him. This isn't something I'm even going to discuss."

Emma sighed. She sounded so sad. "Lovi…my mom, she once said that if you have the means to help someone who truly needs it, you should. Without hesitation. Without excuses."

Lovino just narrowed his eyes, looked back at the river and said absolutely nothing.

There was a prolonged silence, until Emma finally sighed again and asked him about the Dufour Chocolate Contest instead.

* * *

Am I crazy?

_Depends on who you ask, I suppose._

I have a voice in my head, and it sounds like my dead fiancé.

_Yes, but I'm not a voice you can't control. You can shut me up. You have in the past. You can ignore me. Make me go away._

Yes…

_I'm like an alter ego, really. Or better yet, your conscience._

Figures that my conscience sounds so much like Roderich. He always could keep me in line…

_I AM RODERICH. I AM THE VOICE IN YOUR HEAD. I AM YOUR CONSCIENCE. _

…Roderich's dead.

_And you should be too. We should be dead together._

I don't want to die. I don't, I really don't. I—I'm so sorry—I know I should want it. It's selfish to want to live without you.

_Extremely selfish._

There are days…days when…I agree with you.

_I have to convince you._

I deserve to be dead.

_Yes, yes you do._

…I miss you.

_I miss being alive._

I'm sorry! I'm so sorry! I—

_No, no you're not._

Roddy, don't leave, don't leave me—

_Leave you? Where would I go? We've established I'm the voice inside your head and your conscience. If you don't want me to go, I'll stay. I'll stay, Antonio, darling. _

Say it. Say it again.

_Antonio, darling._

I love you.

_Then you shouldn't have killed me._

* * *

It was never a pleasant sight to see Francis Bonnefoy inside _Theobroma Cacao_. It was never a frequent occurrence, either. But as the sun set, Lovino was walking back to The Shop alone, trying to forget that whole conversation about Antonio with Emma. The last thing he'd wanted to discuss was that poor homeless bastard. It made his head hurt.

In any case, they had to go visit him soon, didn't they?

Francis was there, studying the chocolates through their glass case, with a very unamused Ivan standing over him. Francis didn't seem to mind, however. He was chatting on and on about his favourite characters in Downton Abbey.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Lovino spat as he entered.

Both Ivan and Francis looked up, and Francis's face split into a huge grin. "Ah, little Lovino. I was just…in the neighbourhood."

"Uh-huh." Lovino marched up to Francis, crossing his arms and tapping his foot on the ground. "What do you want?"

"Can I not stop by my second-favourite chocolate shop and examine the goods?"

"No," Ivan declared coldly. "You can't."

"Hey, free country." Francis just grinned wider and shrugged. Waggling his eyebrows at Lovino, he went on, "Word on the street tells me you've ordered some specialty cacao."

"Word on the street tells you nothing. This is private property, so get the hell out."

"Oh, Lovi. So bitter. So…seventy-five percent, unsweetened."

Lovino just stared. "You've got to come up with a better insult, Francis. I actually like dark chocolate."

"Hmm, yes, well, I'm not surprised." Francis just ran a hand through his hair, almost like he were posing for a photo shoot, saying, "_The Times _is doing a feature on me and my shop tomorrow. Isn't that exciting?"

Lovino didn't want to show any emotion. He managed to keep a scowl away. But his face became bright pink in fury, and he almost exhausted himself trying to keep his temper under control. Finally, when he spoke, it was with a dead, flat voice. "_The Times _has lowered its standards, I see."

"Bitter and sour! You don't make for an appetising _chocolat_, do you, Lovino?"

As Lovino's face reddened, Francis just let out an airy laugh. Ivan looked about ready to punch him in the teeth. Francis said, "Oh, there was one more thing. Arthur tried to call you but your phone was switched off."

"I was on a date!"

"Ah, yes, with beautiful Emma. Well, I was truly in the neighbourhood so I thought I'd stop by to deliver a message. Arthur said you could meet him tomorrow during his lunch break to practice what you'd discussed this afternoon."

Lovino blinked.

"I won't judge you now, _mon cher_. I'm French, so I get it. But are you perhaps cheating on Emma with Arthur?"

Lovino just blinked again.

"Are you really that stupid or are you being deliberately irritating?"

"The latter." Francis batted his eyelashes. "It's working, isn't it?"

"Shut up!"

"What did you want to practice with Arthur?"

"CPR, now go away."

"CPR, is that what the children are calling it these days?"

"_Children_? I swear to god, get out of here."

Francis laughed again, ruffling Lovino's hair on his way out. "Wonderful selection of chocolates, by the way," Francis said breezily. "Except for those dark chocolate pecan squares Arthur bought for me. They were crumbly."

"THEY WERE NOT!"

"Next time, temper them better." And Francis closed the door behind him.

Lovino kicked the wall, leaving a dusty footprint. "I hate how he always gets the last word."

Ivan just rolled his eyes. "You let him be, Lovino. When the Dufour contest rolls by, he'll get a taste of his own medicine."

"You don't think I'm bitter chocolate, do you?" Lovino asked in a smaller voice, blinking at Ivan in frustration and a vague sort of upset.

Ivan practically _beamed _as he pulled Lovino into a bone-crushing hug. Ivan had finished what the river had begun. Lovino probably had broken ribs now. "You're one big caramel-milk-sugary-honey-wafer-crust-chocolate-bar."

"Ivan—can't breathe—we don't even sell anything like that!"

"Thank goodness," Ivan replied as an afterthought. He let go of Lovino, who practically collapsed into a heap on the floor.

"Yeah…"

"Are you okay?"

"I think I'm dying."

* * *

Feli had been sweeping the floor in the kitchen while Lovi and Ivan were arguing with Francis (why were they always arguing with him? He wasn't so bad, not really), but before that, she'd already picked out the chocolates. Antonio hadn't said much, of course, but Feli didn't need more than a few minutes of being around the person to know what flavour they'd like.

Antonio's favourite flavour was also her favourite flavour.

Strawberry Day.

They were essentially Belgian style pralines—Feli had invented the recipe herself—with a strawberry cream filling hidden inside milk chocolate. Very sweet. But the perfect thing for Valentines, it seemed. Sales of this chocolate always went up during February.

Anyway, she'd picked out five Strawberry Days, neatly wrapped them in foil and had deposited them in a bag. Antonio would love them. She was going to be meeting Ludwig soon. He'd pick her up from the hospital itself. Hopefully, Lovi would be nice to Antonio. He'd seemed unfairly cold towards the idea of hiring him.

Lovi was too much of a perfectionist for his own good, really.

He opened the kitchen door now, just as she was putting away the cleaning supplies. "We're going to the hospital, right?"

"Yep! I even picked out Toni's chocolates. They're in the freezer. Strawberry Day."

"Strawberry Day," Lovino repeated, sounding slightly mocking as he opened the freezer and picked up the small drawstring bag. "You really think your pseudo-science works?"

"Hey! You can totally guess a person's favourite chocolate flavour from their personalities."

"Yeah, with 'guess' being the operative word."

Feli just stuck her tongue out at him.

In the car, Feli chatted on about Ludwig. He was taking her to this really cute new international cuisine restaurant. Lovino didn't respond, but with the way his jaw was set, he seemed like he was grinding his teeth. She couldn't understand why Lovi had such a problem with Ludwig. Maybe it just had something to do with him being a really sweet, protective brother?

The same dislike for hospitals made Feli inch closer to him. Lovino would do this strange thing where he pretended to be annoyed with Feli, but he never actually was. It was a childhood habit. Whenever Feli had a nightmare or was scared of the thunder, she'd run to him. He'd make this huge fuss about how irritating she was, but then he'd hug her and hold her and allow her to cry into his shirt until she fell asleep.

He really was so cute.

Lovino took the lead as he opened the door to Antonio's room. He stopped short so suddenly that Feli almost walked into him, having to swerve out of the way at the last second.

Antonio…well, it was hard to say. He seemed even weaker than before. Exhausted. Pale and thin as ever, but this time he actually looked grey. The IV was still in him, and he could barely sit up. But when he saw them, he offered a big smile and struggled to hoist himself upright.

Until, of course, Lovino muttered, "Don't you even try."

Antonio just let out a short laugh before falling back into the pillows, the whole episode having taxed him enough to want to close his eyes and lie still for a few seconds.

When Feli pressed her palm against his forehead, she almost recoiled. "Do the doctors know you have a fever?"

Lovi was leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, looking awkwardly at the floor. When Feli spoke, he looked up and then frowned slightly at Antonio. He actually appeared concerned.

Antonio's voice had returned. At least there was that. He smiled tiredly at Feli and murmured, "Yes, they're worried I'm getting an infection or something. But it's nothing, really. Everyone's overreacting."

"Careful with your voice," Lovino muttered without looking at him.

"I'm fine, really!" he insisted. He still sounded raw and he couldn't really speak very loudly, but it was definitely an improvement.

"Relatively speaking," Lovino quipped, placing Antonio under a hard stare. "You look like death warmed over. I hope you know that."

Antonio just smiled at Lovino again, as though he couldn't think of a decent response. Feli couldn't decipher the look Lovino was giving him. It was very intense. Thoughtful. And yet reserved. He wasn't being unfriendly, but Lovino seemed to look trapped. At sea with no bearings, so to speak.

Feli had placed the Strawberry Day chocolates by Antonio's bed, but Toni hadn't touched them yet. He'd only politely said that the milk chocolates from earlier were delicious, although he couldn't finish all five of them. Feli wasn't about to push him. She didn't know how physically strong Antonio was, really. So she was treating him like glass.

Finally, Lovino moved. He uncoiled himself from his position against the wall, reached his hand inside his jacket and pulled out from the chest pocket half a bar of an experimental recipe. Feli recognised the wrapper. Lovino had been working on this in his free time, never deeming it good enough for sales. She watched him now, unsure of what he was doing.

Lovino slowly unwrapped the bar from where the paper had bunched together, peeled the chocolate out of it and then broke a piece off with a firm snap. Antonio was watching him too, like one might study a very fascinating predator stalking its next meal.

It was a very small piece of chocolate that Lovino offered to Antonio. "Try this. Tell me what you think."

Antonio smiled slightly. "Thank you, but I don't think I can stomach it at the moment."

"Go on," Lovino pressed gently. "Just a bite. I want your opinion."

There was a internal debate in Antonio's eyes. Feli watched them, the way they flit between confusion and eagerness and tension. Finally, Antonio extended the arm with the IV still stuck in his wrist, and softly murmured, "Well, okay."

Lovino placed the piece into his hand and watched as Antonio put it into his mouth.

What on earth was Lovi up to?

"What do you think?" Lovino asked after Antonio had been chewing for a few seconds.

"Well…it's bitter."

"Yeah. What else?"

"I…I like the tartness! It's like…orange?"

"Lemon."

"Oh."

"Tell me more."

"Um…I'm sorry, my taste buds aren't working very well." Antonio chuckled nervously, eyeing Lovino as though trying to predict his next move.

Honestly, Feli was looking at her brother the exact same way. Lovino was thinking. She could see it on his face. He was thinking intensely, and he wasn't going to tell her anything until he'd sorted out everything in his mind.

"Anything, Antonio. The texture, the flavour, the colour, anything."

"Um…okay." Antonio swallowed the chocolate and licked his lips, his eyes becoming quiet. "It's bitter and dark and lemony. But it's quite nice! It's very smooth. Sort of melts in your mouth, you know?"

"Uh-huh. Anything else?"

"Uh…all right, don't take this the wrong way."

"I won't."

"But I think it needs to be sweeter. It feels sort of…raw, right now."

Lovino's eyes almost _glittered_. "With sugar, honey or caramel? I've been tinkering with all three, but I can't choose."

Antonio stared at Lovino for a very long minute. Feli swallowed.

"Well," Antonio mumbled, his eyes going to his bed sheet. "It's lemony. And I guess lemon and honey go together well, don't they?"

Lovino bit the inside of his cheek but it was too late. Feli had seen it. That hint of a smile. Even now, his lips were aching to twitch upwards. _Oh, Lovi. _A job interview. Lovino had been conducting a job interview. Although Feli had never seen Lovino do it quite this way. He'd usually just ask questions before demanding a demonstration.

This…was different.

This entire approach was different.

"Thanks," Lovino coolly said, finally composing his face to look unemotional. "Valuable feedback from a potential customer."

"But I can't affor—"

"Everyone is a potential customer. Everyone."

Feli just tittered nervously. She couldn't gauge the mood of the room. She was usually so good at it but right now she couldn't. If anything, she felt…out of place. Like she shouldn't even be here. It was the strangest thing. But Lovi was looking right at Antonio with another undecipherable gaze and Antonio was looking back with an almost mirrored expression.

Feli just felt…awkward.

* * *

"Oh! Um!"

Lovino watched Feli reach for her phone and hurriedly press random buttons.

"Oh!" she said again without looking up at Lovino. "Luddy's here! Okay, I'm going to go. See you, Lovi! See you, Antonio! Take care!"

Lovino narrowed his eyes. "…Okay? See you tomorrow."

His eyes followed her out of the room door. And when she shut it behind her, he just shook his head. "Younger sisters should never date. There should be a law against it or something."

Antonio dutifully mumbled something in agreement. He really did look quite terrible. It _bothered _Lovino on a rather intimate level that human beings could actually be that sick. On cue, Antonio let out a harsh cough, gasping as his hands flew away from his mouth to rub his throat instead.

And then it got worse. Antonio left his throat to hug himself, rubbing his arms up and down, trying to generate friction.

"God, here." Lovino shed his jacket, pulling out the half-open bar of chocolate from the pocket first and depositing it on the nightstand. "Chills?" he asked as he handed the jacket to Antonio. The man only nodded, pulling the jacket onto him without exactly wearing it.

"I don't think I've ever been this ill before," Antonio mumbled, but this time his voice sounded like it had in the morning.

"I don't think you should talk right now. Do you want some water?" Before Antonio could reply, Lovino had already filled a glass, which he held to Antonio's face. The man's grip was pathetically weak. Lovino had to hold the water up to him, helping him take small sips.

This was bad, wasn't it?

"Are you okay now?" Lovino asked, dropping his voice a few octaves.

Antonio nodded and smiled gratefully.

"I'm calling a doctor."

"Okay."

"Really, don't talk. You'll just make it worse."

Antonio mutely nodded, and Lovino left him to walk to the nurse's station down the hallway.

Had it been a good idea to test Antonio's chocolate sense now? When he was so sick? But the lemon-honey thing was something Lovino had been mulling over himself, really. He wasn't sure the bar would actually sell, but he liked the puzzle. It was good to have someone corroborate his idea. Even if that someone was a sickly man without any obvious experience with chocolate-making.

Emma's words kept playing in his mind, over and over and over again.

Antonio…seemed like a good person. Not an axe-murder or a thief or an addict of any sort.

And Lovino was quickly running out of excuses to not hire him. He could tell himself a hundred times over that Antonio would need training, but then Lovino always personally supervised the work of his employees until he was satisfied they knew what they were doing. And Emma was right. Lovino _had _taught Feli and Ivan the profession. So what was one more person, really?

The more serious issue would be that of finding a place for him to stay. But there were lots of cheap apartments or motels.

This whole thing was so complicated, Lovino wished he could just shut his brain up. For once in his life.

"Hi, is there a doctor we could speak to? I'm with Antonio Carriedo?" Lovino asked when he approached the nurse's station. There were a couple of men and women there, one of whom looked up and smiled.

"Yes, Dr. Wang should be on his way in a few minutes."

So Lovino walked back to Antonio, who was just lying there, eyes at the ceiling.

"I didn't properly thank you for last night," Antonio said as Lovino entered.

"What did I tell you about talking?"

"But I feel like I'll never be able to say it enough. Thank you, thank you, thank you—" and Antonio winced and rubbed his throat.

Lovino snorted. He couldn't help it. "Seems like you really _can't _say it enough, can you?"

When Antonio could, he managed a tiny grin. "Gallows humour?" he asked, barely audible.

"It's the best."

There was a surprising and pleasantly comfortable silence.

"I've never met a chocolatier before."

Lovino had to lean in to hear what Antonio had said.

"And I've never before met an idiot who can't shut up even though his voice is shitty."

Antonio's chuckle sounded more like the sound of a dying animal.

"No, I'm serious. Stop it. If you're bored, you can sleep. You look pretty tired, anyway."

Antonio rolled his eyes but didn't reply. In fact, he turned his attention to his lap, his whole face becoming sort of melancholy. There wasn't even that hint of a smile on his lips, like there always seemed to be. The whole thing looked…awful. Actually awful. It stirred Lovino. He didn't like this. It seemed so damn wrong.

"What?" Lovino asked, frowning.

Antonio placed a hand over his throat to soothe it, and said, "It's been a long couple of months. I'm just…tired, I guess." He rubbed his neck with firmer movements.

The door opened, making the two of them glance up. It was Dr. Wang from last night. He had his nose in a clipboard, but then he looked up and stopped short when he saw Lovino. "Oh. I didn't expect you to be here." He flicked his ponytail back and looked at Antonio instead. "How are you feeling, Mr. Carriedo."

"I'm fi—"

"He's pretty bad," Lovino replied. "Could barely talk. My sister even thought he had a fever."

Dr. Wang raised an eyebrow. "Is that so?" he walked up to Antonio—who had the most irritated pout on his face—and placed a hand on his forehead. "Ah. Right. I'll get a nurse to take his temperature." With that, he turned on his heels gracefully and walked out.

"Really, everyone's making a fuss."

"You're joking, right? Have you looked at yourself in a mirror?" _You look like my grandfather used to when he was dying. _Lovino's memories were rather strange, although he figured everyone's worked the same way. He didn't have a problem with remembering his grandfather's last days, but he could never immediately picture the man as he was—sickly, thin, grey. No, Lovino would imagine him with his muscular arms and feathery brown hair, healthy tan and booming laugh. So when he forced himself to remember the man as he'd actually looked, it always made his heart ache.

"What?" Antonio had caught the unguarded expression on Lovino's face. "What's wrong?" Amazing, his voice full of concern despite how sick he was himself.

"Noth—"

The door opened again, and Dr. Wang entered with a nurse following behind. She didn't wait for any formalities. She just gestured to Antonio to open his mouth, and then stuck a thermometer under his tongue.

The thing he hated most about the flu were the thermometers. It made him feel like he was at an exam. He'd have to sit very still, not talk, and possibly be subjected to disgusting medication. Plus there was the added and enormous discomfort of having a piece of glass under his tongue, making his saliva coagulate while coating his whole mouth with an awful metallic taste.

So it wasn't surprising that Antonio looked so freaking annoyed as he sat there, thermometer in his mouth, hugging himself. It was funny in a sad sort of way. He still had Lovino's jacket draped on top of him, even though he wasn't actually wearing it properly.

When the thermometer beeped and was examined, Dr. Wang pursed his lips. "It's 101."

"Oh," Antonio croaked.

Dr. Wang scribbled something into his clipboard. "Any chills?"

"Yes…"

"Do they make your teeth chatter?"

"What?"

So Dr. Wang repeated the question.

"Um…sometimes."

More scribbling on the clipboard.

"Lift your shirt."

Antonio looked down at himself and slowly pulled his shirt up. Dr. Wang pressed his stethoscope into his skin.

"What's wrong?" Lovino asked slowly, taking a step closer to Antonio's bed.

Dr. Wang pulled away, letting out a small breath.

"What's wrong?" Lovino asked again, raising his voice a little.

The man glanced from Antonio to Lovino, and then his gaze fell on Antonio once again.

"I think we ought to conduct tests for pneumonia."

* * *

-/-

* * *

_Emma: Loooovi_

_Emma: I'm guessing you're not coming over tonight, huh?_

**Lovino: I'm so tired. (And so tragically unfit. I think I should go swimming more often, huh?)**

**Lovino: I just want to sleep in. **

**Lovino: Is that all right?**

_Emma: God, yes. How selfish do you think I am?_

_Emma: Sleep well :)_

**Lovino: Thanks. Good night.**

_Emma: Good night! :*_

_Emma: Oh, wait! How's Antonio?_

**Lovino: Probably dying of pneumonia.**

**Lovino: I must be crazy to even consider hiring him.**

_Emma: You're considering?! OH LOVI!_

_Emma: Not crazy! Kind!_

**Lovino: If you think he's getting a job because he's sick and homeless, you're wrong.**

**Lovino: If I hire him, it's because I think he can be trained.**

**Lovino: Unlike Feli, I'm not under any delusions about the nature of my business. **

**Lovino: Theobroma Cacao is a for-profit establishment, not a charity. **

**Lovino: I have WAY too much to worry about right now to hire someone useless.**

_Emma: You're such a sweetie ;D_

**Lovino: Good. Night.**

_Emma: Hahahaha xD_

* * *

Antonio couldn't sleep. It made no sense. He was just so tired. The fact was he was also afraid of sleeping. Afraid of the nightmares. Sometimes—most times—his sleep would be quiet, undisturbed, calm. But then there were those nights when he'd relive everything. They were almost like flashbacks, they were so clear. Sometimes his point of view would change, so he'd watch from above or from the side, a mute observer to the destruction of his own life. And he'd cry.

Now, though, his chest hurt. His arms and legs felt heavy. The fever and chills made sleeping uncomfortable. It was so lonely. (He was so used to the feeling.)

Earlier, though, Lovino and his sister had showed up. He really liked both of them, particularly Lovino. There was something about him, a presence, perhaps. Lovino had that aura. Control, calm, like the eye of a spiral galaxy.

Antonio's eyes travelled across his room. The lights were all out, but the moon was full and the curtains weren't drawn, so there was just enough illumination for him to make-out the shapes of the drawstring bag of chocolate on his nightstand. Feli had left those, but he hadn't tried them yet.

What the hell.

He reached out, picking up the bag and placing it on his lap. Carefully, like unwrapping a birthday present, he pulled apart the drawstrings and dipped two fingers into the pouch. The chocolates were small and somewhat cylindrical, wrapped in gold foil. He peeled one open and touched it. Smooth, slightly sticky because it had been left out.

Antonio took a bite.

What hit him first was the sweetness. It wasn't just sugary—it was _cold_—like biting into something minty. Except, this wasn't mint. There was something semi-solid inside it. Cream. Strawberry flavoured. Antonio popped the rest of the chocolate in his mouth, letting his tongue pick out the filling. This was really, really good. He liked sweet things. And strawberries. He'd never eaten a chocolate he'd liked so much before.

He barely finished swallowing before taking out another chocolate and eating that too. They were all the same flavour. Strawberry filling in—what was that? Milk chocolate?—the idea itself wasn't so unique, but the way it had been made…Just. Fantastic.

Antonio went for a third one.

And just before he put it into his mouth, he paused.

He was enjoying this too much.

He…he didn't really deserve to, did he?

No…he was a bad person. He didn't deserve to eat good chocolate.

Slowly, Antonio wrapped the chocolate back in its foil and slipped it into the drawstring pouch. He was sorry. He was so, so, so sorry.

* * *

_-the sun, little darling, here comes the sun,_

_And I say, it's all right,_

_Little darling, it's been a long cold lonely winter,_

_Little darling, it feels like years since it's been here—_

Lovino, half-asleep, took his phone off the nightstand and banged it against the wood. Once, twice, three times.

_Little darling, the smiles returning to the faces,_

_Little darling, it seems like years since it's been here—_

"John, you persistent motherfucker…"

Before Lovino could abuse his phone any more (he had plans of hurling it across the room), the alarm suddenly stopped. The silence was such a surprise that Lovino's eyelids actually pried themselves open, but then he saw the phone and it hit him. There was an incoming call. This, at least, was the standard iPhone ringtone. It shattered the momentary quiet with the words _Arthur Kirkland _dancing on the screen.

"Do you know what time it is?" Lovino snapped as he answered.

"_It's eight fifteen on a working day?"_

"Which is basically the middle of the night."

"_Right. Of course. You sure you wanted to learn CPR and first-aid? Because then we could go to my place during the lunch hour."_

Did he really? Did he care? Lovino's mind flit to Antonio as he'd seen him on that first night, lying there with a mask on his face, pale and thin and barely breathing.

"Yes. I told you, I'm not getting caught unawares like that again."

"_Good for you. How are you feeling? Still sore?"_

"I don't know. I'm not fully awake yet."

"_Idiot."_

And Arthur cut the phone.

"Bastard," Lovino muttered to himself before pressing his head into the pillows.

And then the phone rang again. It was Feli.

"_Loooovi! I was thinking we could visit Toni for breakfast! That would make him happy, right?"_

"Toni? Why are you on a nick-name basis with him?" Though to be fair, Alfred had also called him Toni, and Feli was notorious for shortening people's names.

"_Because 'Antonio' is too long and I'm lazy! Anyway, let's visit him before we open the shop! How was he last night after I left?"_

"The doctor thinks he might have pneumonia."

"_WHAT?"_

"Relax, it's not fatal."

"_But it's not fun, either. I'm going to go visit him, whether you like it or not."_

"God, all right, all right. You go ahead. I'll come later. I just woke up."

"_Yay!"_

"Oh, and Feli? Did you change my alarm tune?"

"_Yes, it's much more cheerful than that depressing one about broken dreams."_

"That is a matter of opinion."

"_And your opinion is stupid."_

"What the—"

"_Bye, Lovi! I'll get breakfast for you! See you at the hospital!"_

This was already turning out to be a bad day.

* * *

Lovino did not, in fact, end up visiting Antonio that morning. Ivan called him up in a mad panic, yelling that he needed help because he'd miscalculated the amount of chocolate sauce pots in the store room and had to make more because someone had asked for a bulk delivery. And then he was concerned about replacing the chocolate statues in the shop's window because they'd been sitting there for almost a week now, plus there was a random influx of tourists from the city in town, so they'd already had some early customers. And then Ivan had to deliver some chocolate figurines for someone's birthday party.

This was happening more often. Ivan calling up in a mad panic. They honestly needed some more employees. Easter had been a veritable nightmare.

Lovino spent half his time in the kitchen and the other half making sales. He managed to sweet-talk a reluctant mother to buy a large chocolate bar for her already sugar-high son, before starting work on new chocolate figures for the shop window. They usually donated the old ones to orphanages. They were still perfectly edible, of course, but making new designs each week just made _Theobroma Cacao _look fresh. And it brought a large smile to all the children's faces, so there was that advantage.

Then, to Ivan and Lovino's absolute horror, the tempering machine stopped working. It was old anyway, but now it just sat there uselessly with several litres of liquefied chocolate starting to set. It would have been a disaster had they not spent the next forty-five minutes tempering the stuff manually. Later, Ivan called the company and asked them to send a repairman.

Feli entered at this point.

"You know, just because you're the owner's sister doesn't mean you can just come and go whenever you want," Lovino muttered darkly, wiping his brow. "We've had a long day."

He glanced up, however, when Felicia didn't reply.

She was just staring blankly, confused, at Lovino, like there was something she couldn't understand.

"What?" he asked.

Felicia shook her head, wearing her apron and her cap. "It's silly. Never mind."

"No. What happened?"

"It's Antonio."

Lovino's heart actually stopped for a moment. "What? Is he all right?" Where was this fear coming from? This concern? Lovino didn't usually worry about people this much.

"Oh, oh, yes. Weak, sick, tired, yeah, but he's all right. We chatted for a while." She wasn't looking at him, but her eyes were sort of downcast. "I asked him if he'd liked the chocolates I'd given him. Those Strawberry Days."

Slowly, things were becoming clearer. And as they did, Lovino started to notice the smallest, cruellest grin pulling at the corners of his mouth.

Feli went on, "He said…he said they were nice."

"Nice?"

"Yeah, like when you don't like something but you don't want to be rude, so you say something's _nice_. And then he went on to tell me that he'd found them very sweet, and he couldn't really tolerate too much sugar, because he was more of a dark-chocolate sort of person."

Lovino stared at her and then burst out laughing. Bent-over, hands-on-his-knees laughter that was both mocking and deeply amused. "B-basically," he spluttered, trying to control himself, "Your pseudo-science about guessing people's favourite chocolates based on their personality…failed?"

"It did not fail! I—I don't—he's lying! I'm never wrong!"

"It's just guesswork," Lovino jeered. "You were bound to slip-up sometime! I knew you were full of crap! I knew it!"

"Shut up! There's got to be an explanation! Maybe he likes them but he _can't _have them because…because he has diabetes or something! _My science is never wrong_!"

"It's not a science."

"It is!"

"It's not."

"IT IS, LOVI."

"Nope."

"IT IS!"

"Why don't you two stop arguing and help me here?" Ivan snapped. It was unusual for him to lose his temper, but he looked exhausted, sweaty and upset as he tried to peel out chocolates from their moulds. The two of them turned to blink at him. Technically, Lovino was his boss. But Ivan had pretty much become a part of the family now, anyway.

"Aww, Ivan, we're sorry. Yes, you're right. We'll help." Feli ran across the kitchen to him, taking one of the trays of moulds and slowly plucking the chocolate out of it.

Lovino rubbed his face. "No, wait. It's lunchtime. You two should go eat."

"I've already eaten," Feli replied. "Ivan, go take your lunch break. I'll finish this off by then."

Ivan nodded wordlessly, placing the last of his chocolates on a metal tray. "Lovino, will you be joining me?"

"Uh, no. I have to meet Arthur about something. You can carry on."

Before the other two could ask, Lovino walked out of the kitchen and The Shop, flipping over sign on the door so it read _Closed_.

* * *

-/-

* * *

It had been over a fortnight. Lovino's new schedule was killing him.

His day started as it always did. He'd go to The Shop and cook and sell. He'd answer phones and take orders. He'd even make deliveries, dropping off boxes of chocolate using an old bicycle. During his lunch break, he'd go to Arthur's place to learn CPR and first-aid. Usually they'd just watch documentaries about it, but then sometimes Arthur would Google images of a human being's internal structure and then talk about how to save someone. Then they'd practice. After which they'd eat Chinese take-out food, because Arthur couldn't cook.

When he got back to the shop, it was another long episode of cooking and selling and deliveries. He'd take his leave at seven—an hour earlier than Ivan or Feli did—to eat dinner with Emma. Then he'd go to the hospital and spend a couple of hours chatting with Antonio.

Antonio.

His health was improving, slowly. He was still very weak, but he loved to talk. He'd ask a lot of questions to Lovino. About the town, the people, about chocolate. Lovino would tell him about the Dufour Chocolate Contest, about Francis and Gilbert, Feli's stupid boyfriend Ludwig, about Ivan and his unnerving but likable personality. The few times Lovino asked things to Antonio, the man just shut him down with an awkward laugh before he changed the subject. Lovino learnt that Antonio didn't like to talk about himself. The only things he really knew about him were that Antonio was born here but his parents were Spanish. They had a house there, but Antonio couldn't move back because they weren't very close.

"But it would still be better than starving on the streets, right?"

"Maybe, I guess. But…I don't know. I just don't think they'd want to see me." Another awkward laugh, eye-contact broken.

It was such a tiring schedule, because somewhere between all of that he'd sometimes spend the night with Emma, and during the day he'd try and fail to get started on making that new recipe for the chocolate contest. He'd always lay out the ingredients, but then he'd panic and put them all away. It was so stupid. But in his head, this recipe was perfect. Lovino was terrified of finding out that it probably wasn't.

Feli sometimes accompanied Lovino to see Antonio, and it was on one of those nights that Dr. Wang walked in, looking slightly happier.

"I'm pleased to say you're fit to go home now."

"Oh!" Feli cried. "That's wonderful! You've been here for over two weeks, Toni!"

"What about hospital expenses?" Lovino asked, raising an eyebrow. He glanced at Antonio. "I can't believe I haven't asked you this before, but do you have insurance?"

"Yes," Dr. Wang answered for him.

So a damaged credit card and working health insurance. What exactly had happened to Antonio? What had happened to make him look so emaciated?

"I'm glad," Antonio said quietly, smiling. "I don't like hospitals much."

"Who does, really?" Feli asked in a sagely voice.

"But where would he go?" Dr. Wang questioned, looking from Antonio to Lovino. "Antonio," he went on, "You're going to need to stay with someone. You're not strong enough to be left alone quite yet."

"Well," Lovino replied, "I've been looking for cheap apartments. If we could get Antonio a loan somehow—"

Antonio's eyes flickered briefly to Lovino in surprise. He smiled.

"No." Dr. Wang shook his head. "No. He can't be alone. I don't want a situation where you—" he gave Antonio a piercing look. "—are passed out on the floor and nobody knows about it. Maybe you can hire a nurse or a carer—"

"I'm not going to do that," Antonio said firmly, his eyes becoming suddenly hard. "Really, everyone's worrying for no reason. I'll be fine. Besides it's expensive to hire someone just to make sure I don't pass out."

"We can't just let you be alone," Feli pressed, frowning.

"But—"

Lovino shifted his weight from one foot to another, studying his shoes intently as he chewed the inside of his cheek. His eyes flickered briefly towards Antonio, before gliding over to Dr. Wang and then to his sister. He looked at Antonio again. Then he finally stared at Dr. Wang. "Antonio can stay with me."

"What?"

"What?"

"Well, that works out, then."

Feli had her honey eyes wide open. Antonio dropped his jaw.

Lovino looked at Antonio now. "I have a free room. In return, I guess you can work at my shop. Would you like that?"

"I—I can't accept—"

"It's not charity, don't worry. I'm a bastard, I don't do charity. I need an employee, you need a place to stay. I'll pay you a full salary and you'll have a home with hot water, TV and electricity. We can work out a rent, if you'd like."

"But…" Antonio blinked, appalled. "But I don't know anything about making chocolate."

"I know that. But I think you can learn. Worst case scenario, you can run the errands. Delivery, taking orders, sweeping the floors, stuff like that. What do you think?"

"You…you're being way too nice. I don't—I can't—"

"It's the best offer you're going to get, trust me. If you decline, what are you going to do?"

"Antonio," Feli said gently, placing a hand on his shoulder. "You should take it. It would be lovely to work with you! We've all become friends, haven't we?"

"But I can't—"

"I'll teach you myself," Feli said with a grin that made her eyes crinkle up in the sweetest way. "Come on."

Antonio swallowed, looking between Feli and Lovino.

"Are you sure you'd want to hire…me? Let _me _stay with you?"

Lovino didn't say anything. He just nodded, making sure to keep his face stoic.

Antonio looked at Dr. Wang next, then directed his eyes downwards, to his hands. "I'm deeply grateful. I…yes, I would love that. So much. Thank you." When he looked at Lovino next, his eyes were shining with unshed tears. "Thank you so much."

Lovino allowed himself the smallest of smiles before he nodded curtly at Antonio and looked at the doctor. "Well, that's settled."

Dr. Wang looked between the three of them, puzzled but smiling slightly. "All right."

Why did Lovino care so much about Antonio's well-being?

(_How to Save a Life: What to Say, What to Think, What to Feel – rule number 1: The lives we save have just as much of an impact on us as our lives have on them._)

* * *

**A/N: Thanks for reading! **

**Ooh, if you've read my Spamano fic, **_**As We Were**_**, ollymolly on 8tracks has made a wonderful playlist for it! You have to check it out, it's amaaaaazing. I tried to put a link on my profile but stupid fanfiction just redirected me back to my own profile page (-.-). But you should be able to find it through ollymolly's page on 8tracks! :)**

**Please review :D**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: ****Here comes the Spamanoooo~ **

**Warnings for heavy suicidal thinking in this chapter. (Because only I can mix something as awesome as chocolate with something as awful as suicide. I swear, I need help xD). **

**Random fact: in my opinion, Romerica is a very strange pairing. But I totally adore those two as friends :3 **

**Yay. **

* * *

Lovino's apartment was exactly how Antonio had imagined it. Not very large, but strangely not very cramped, either. It had character. It was old in a pleasant sort of way, cream wallpaper and comfortable clutter. There was a kitchenette and a TV and a couch with a blanket draped on it, a cupboard in the living room with a few bottles of cheap wine and ceramic figurines of farm animals.

Lovino caught him staring at those. "My grandmother used to collect those things."

"Oh! Is this your grandparents' apartment?"

Lovino wordlessly nodded. Antonio had just recovered from a coughing fit. Climbing up two flights of stairs had done it for his lungs, and now he was sitting at one end of the couch, relishing the feeling of just _breathing_. Lovino had given him a glass of warm water, and Antonio kept taking small sips. He watched Lovino now. The man was across the room, looking through the kitchen cabinets for something to eat. "It's not like they had much money. When Grandpa died, I got the apartment and Feli got whatever wealth they had. It put her through cooking school. I think Grandpa would have liked that."

"Oh. Yeah."

Lovino half-turned and glanced at Antonio before turning back to where he'd taken out a few ingredients. "Pasta's good? You eat tomatoes, right?"

_I love tomatoes. _

_I don't deserve them, though._

_I don't deserve anything._

"Uh," Antonio mumbled, lowering his eyes. He didn't want to be rude, either. Lovino was doing so much for him.

This time, Lovino turned fully, crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow at Antonio. "I can make cheese sauce instead."

"Oh! Oh yes, that sounds lovely."

"Yeah." Lovino turned back, putting the tomatoes away and raiding his refrigerator for cheese instead. "So, you've asked me a ton of questions lately. Tell me about yourself."

Antonio swallowed. "There's not much to say."

"Well, I'm bored of listening to myself talk," Lovino replied effortlessly, taking out a saucepan and a grater. "You said your parents were from Spain. Have you ever been there before yourself?"

"…I used to go there a lot during summer break when I was a kid, but I've not been there in years! It's really pretty, though. Everyone's friendly and the food is amazing!"

"Yeah? Your parents moved back to Spain afterwards, right?"

"Yeah, it's been a few years…"

"My grandparents always wanted to go back to Italy. But they never could save up enough. They were from Sicily but moved here in the twenties? Thirties? I don't remember. Anyway, Grandpa worked in a convenience store all his life but he was obsessed—I mean, fucking _obsessed—_with chocolate. He'd always wanted to learn how to make it but he never got the chance. My dad didn't really care as much. But then mom and dad passed away when Feli and I were really young, so Grandpa and Grandma took us in. And well, his obsession was contagious. Besides, let me tell you, one of the best ways to cheer up a grieving, confused little boy is by giving him a chocolate bar and telling him a funny story. Takes the mind off the loss." Lovino said all of this without a hint of emotion, still chopping and boiling and grating the food.

Antonio smiled slightly to himself. "You were really close to your grandfather, huh?"

"Not initially," Lovino replied, sprinkling something into the saucepan. "I actually thought he hated me because he'd spend so much time with Feli. She was four. I was six. Anyway, later he told me that it was because Feli was young and impressionable and far more shaken by dad and mom's death than she was letting on. I mean, I get it. It still bothers her. She doesn't like going to orphanages."

"Why would you go to orphanages?"

"To donate the shop window chocolate after we don't need it. The kids are always really happy. You'd think that would make Feli happy too, but she gets very upset. Ivan and I just end up doing it."

"Oh."

Lovino shrugged. "It doesn't matter. Everyone goes through shit, and it's pretty bad at first, but we all learn to deal with things."

Oh god, Antonio _hated _hearing stuff like that. It just reminded him of how he was giving up. A part of him wished Lovino hadn't found him. A part of him wished Lovino would have just let him drown. Now, he had to live again. At least for a little while. At least until he got another chance to die.

Dying was easy. There were plenty of ways to do it. From jumping off buildings to slitting wrists to taking sleeping pills. But for Antonio, it had to be water. He had to drown. This was important.

FOCUS, ANTONIO.

Stop thinking about it.

Stop. Just. Focus on the present.

_Ah, ah, ah, too late. _

_So, drowning is the worst way. Because—_

Shut up, shut up, SHUT UP, RODERICH.

—_Because it's painful. And more than that, it makes you panic. It's not the same sort of pain as cutting your veins open. Drowning makes the brain explode in terror and desperation. Oxygen is so fundamental. We can barely go a minute without it. So when you can't get it, when your lungs are filled with water instead of air—_

Stop, oh god, please stop—

_Everything hurts. From the tip of your hair to the blood in your body. Everything is screaming. And your mouth is open and clawing for oxygen but you just get more water in. Ironic how water is supposed to keep you alive when really, it can kill you in such an agonising way._

I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorrysorrysorry sorry sorry please sorry let me go I'm sorry—

"Jesus, what the fuck?"

Antonio had curled in on himself, fingers clawing his hair to make his brain SHUT UP. His mind was always chaos. He could never calm it down. Never. He was breathing deeply and slowly, because he could only ever hope to regain control if he kept still. He'd have to force his heartbeat to become steady again. It was always so difficult.

"Do you have a headache?"Lovino took Antonio's hands and pulled them away from his head, pushing him up by the shoulders and pressing his back into the sofa cushions. "Are you all right?"

It was incredible, that aura Lovino had. Some people's very presence could fill a place up and calm things down. Lovino could do that. His eyes, amber and steady, fixed into Antonio's. It was like holding a warm hand. They gave off the same reassurance, the same security.

Antonio's mind became quiet.

"Sorry. I—I think—my head—"

"You should lie down. You still have a bit of a temperature." Lovino's hand was very cold as it pressed against Antonio's forehead. "Feli should be back soon with a couple of shirts and jeans for you, but until then you can borrow a pair of my pyjamas, if you want."

Oh, right. Feli said she was getting him a few pairs of clothes and some new shoes. It was Monday, so they were free today to get Antonio discharged from hospital. According to Lovino, their shop was always shut on Mondays.

"No, it's all right. I appreciate it, but you don't have to." Antonio didn't actually want to be alone. It was weird, but Lovino kept him still. Kept him from spiralling into crazed desperation. He kept Roderich quiet.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. Really."

Lovino rolled his eyes, muttered something in Italian under his breath and went back to the stove. "So," Lovino said after an extended period of silence, "What do you know about chocolate?"

"Not much," Antonio replied, sitting with his chin to his knees on the couch, the blanket over his shoulders. It was really, really, really chilly. He reached out for the warm water, still on the table. It just made him feel cold from the inside, too. "Basic stuff, I guess. Chocolate comes from the cacao bean."

Lovino snorted. "Is that all you know?"

"…Yes."

"Well, we'll have to work on that. Let's start with something simple." Lovino turned to Antonio and gave him a small smirk. "Where did chocolate originate from?"

Antonio blinked. "Oh wait, I know this." He scratched the back of his head and chewed his bottom lip, before saying, "The…Incas?"

"Aztecs. I knew you'd make that mistake." Turning back to the stove, Lovino asked, "You're not vegetarian or something, right? I'm putting some meat into this."

"Go ahead."

"Okay." Lovino didn't say anything for a few minutes as he cut some chicken up, but then he asked, "Since we know chocolate came from the Americas, do tell, who brought it to Europe?"

"Spain," Antonio replied with a small laugh.

"Right." Lovino paused for a moment, stirring the pasta, before starting on a completely new track. "Montezuma—he was an Aztec king—apparently consumed fifty cups of chocolate a day—cups, because back then, they drank the stuff—as he thought it would increase his sexual prowess." Lovino's laugh was scornful.

"But isn't it an aphrodisiac?"

Lovino shrugged. "It's hard to say. People still debate about it. Chocolate does produce some chemicals linked to sexual pleasure, but behavioural science has no evidence of chocolate being an aphrodisiac. Though we tell our customers that it is because that makes sales almost triple. Especially during Valentine's Day." Lovino stopped now, almost like he was thinking. Then he muttered, "I read too many goddamn studies about this."

Antonio laughed. "About chocolate and sex?" Even from where he was sitting, he watched the back of Lovino's neck and his ears turn violently red.

"No! Just…I read up about chocolate way too much. I don't have a normal hobby."

"That's okay. It's interesting to listen to these things. Who knew you could drink fifty cups of chocolate a day and live to tell the tale?"

"Actually, it's got tons of health benefits. Not the store-bought, mass-produced shit in supermarkets, but the cacao bean? Very healthy. It's really the sugar and the cocoa butter that makes chocolate fattening—and sweeter." Lovino stopped again, turned and gave Antonio a rather puzzled look. "You like dark chocolate? Feli was sure you like the sweeter kind."

Dark chocolate. Antonio could…tolerate it. He honestly didn't eat that much chocolate, anyway. He wasn't obsessed with it. But yes, he liked it when it was sweet and sugary. So obviously, he said, "Dark chocolate is pretty nice, yes."

He. Didn't. Deserve. To. Enjoy. Anything.

Not anymore.

"There's some in the fridge. You can help yourself to it whenever."

Antonio smiled to himself again. Lovino was so interesting. He came off as slightly grumpy but he was actually rather patient. So thoughtful, so gentle. "I appreciate it, but I couldn't."

"Why not? Look, yes, there are some house rules." Lovino turned fully, counting on his fingers. "No illegal substances—"

"Why would I—"

"If you want to read my books, go ahead. But don't fold the corner of the pages. And once you feel better, you have to help out with cleaning."

"Of course! You don't even have to ask."

Lovino turned red again and looked away. "I've never been a landlord before. I have no fucking clue what I'm doing. What's the going rent rate, anyway?" he asked, turning his eyes to the ceiling as though demanding an answer from God himself.

The chill was sudden and horrible. Like his bones were frozen in ice. It was so _cold_, even though Antonio knew the heat was on. His teeth were chattering as he pulled the blanket closer and curled up into a tight ball. He hated being sick. His nose felt clogged and there was a dull ache over his eyes. His throat constantly itched, and every time he coughed he felt like his ribs were going to crack.

He closed his eyes, pressing his forehead into his knees. He was dimly aware of Lovino's footsteps leaving the room. There was the sound of cupboards opening and closing, some cursing in Italian as something heavy and breakable fell, but a few minutes later, Lovino returned and dumped something on Antonio's shoulders.

It was a parka.

Antonio didn't speak immediately. He just threw it on himself, stuffing his hands through the sleeves and zipping it up. Despite Lovino's smaller build, his parka fit Antonio well. He hadn't been eating much, lately.

"Now pull the hood up," Lovino said, his tone slightly mocking. "You'll look like you're dressed to fight a yeti."

Antonio tried to laugh, but it sounded too much like a cough. He didn't miss Lovino's slight frown.

"You really, really should be lying down."

"I don't want to—um—yeah." Antonio looked away, biting the inside of his cheek. He didn't want to be alone. The horrors of his mind would take over again, and he didn't feel strong enough right now to even try resisting them.

Lovino tilted his head to one side. When he spoke next, it was like he'd read Antonio's mind. "You could just lie down here. It's a large couch, anyway. Besides, your room's not ready yet. I need to put the bed sheets. The pasta's almost done. Eat that, take your medicines—all three hundred of them—and lie down. I don't want to deal with you passing out and dying in my apartment. It's just way too much paperwork."

Antonio did manage a smile at that. "Okay. That sounds good."

The second Antonio saw the pasta, he knew he was going to have a problem with it. Oh, it looked and smelled lovely. But it was cheesy and full of meat and vegetables and was filling. The second he put it in his mouth, it tasted oddly tart. It had nothing to do with the actual taste. His tongue wasn't cooperating.

He felt sick.

Lovino had put his feet up and sat curled on a sofa chair beside the couch, eating hungrily. There was some saved for Feli; she was taking a long time to return. Antonio took a few small bites before he had to stop.

His throat hurt. Everything hurt.

He felt like throwing up.

His hands shook as he put the pasta on the coffee table, unzipping the parka to take clear, slow breaths. Anything to calm the way his stomach was churning. Lovino raised an eyebrow. "What? You don't like it?"

"That's not it. I—" but speaking was a very bad idea. Antonio launched himself off the sofa with energy he didn't know he had and tore towards the bathroom, making it just in time to throw up his breakfast and whatever little he'd had of his lunch down the toilet.

Everything _burned_. His throat, his eyes, his lungs, everything. Involuntary tears were streaming down his face. His body was on fire although he didn't even have the strength to stay upright anymore—

Lovino was rubbing circles on his back, speaking softly in Italian. His hands came down on Antonio's shoulders, holding him very firmly as he started to sway.

When Antonio was finally done, he almost fell into Lovino's chest. That was it. It was over. He was going to faint.

If only Lovino would allow him too.

"Oh no, no way. Can you hear me? Open your fucking eyes, you need to wash up."

Ugh…why couldn't Lovino just let him be? He didn't have the energy…He couldn't…His vision was breaking apart. He could see spots now, grey and black and dark blue. He knew this. He knew this was what it was like before he passed out.

"Get up." Lovino looped one of Antonio's arms around his shoulders and hoisted him upright. "Stand. Lean on me, but walk."

He felt like a newborn deer, his legs unsteady and uncooperative.

They were at the sink now. He'd managed to walk those three steps to the sink. "Wash your mouth. Come on."

Water gushed out of his trembling hands but Lovino was literally holding onto his shoulders—despite being a head shorter—just to help him stay upright. Antonio's head felt like cotton. Everything swam in and out of focus. Somehow, he washed his mouth and face. He just felt sour and disgusting. But at least it didn't look like his clothes were ruined.

Lovino had looped Antonio's arm around his shoulder again, guiding him to the couch and pushing him into a sleeping position. "I told you," Lovino muttered, draping Antonio with the blanket right up to his neck. "I told you to lie down. But no, who listens to me? I've just looked after thousands of bouts of flu for Feli and eased things up for a dying old man. No, who listens to me, I'm just a stupid chocolate-making idiot." Still ranting in Italian, Antonio heard him march back to the kitchenette and rummage around. Lovino returned with a roll of breath mints. "Can you sit up?"

Sit up? Antonio barely had the strength to talk.

"Okay." Lovino pulled Antonio up by the shoulders and wedged himself between one end of the couch, letting Antonio's head fall into his chest. Lovino was warm. Lovino was the only warm thing in an otherwise freezing room. "Suck on these." He took out a breath mint and placed it in Antonio's hand. "You'll thank me later."

Antonio didn't resist. The taste of the mint was very soothing. It made him feel a little cleaner.

"Ideally, you should take your medicines. But since you've basically thrown up everything you've eaten all day…" Lovino's voice trailed away. "Have some green tea? I mean, it's healthy, and it's basically flavoured water."

"No…"

"You can't take antibiotics on an empty stomach. Dr. Wang _told _you as much."

"No…"

"Don't be a child." Lovino got up and pushed Antonio back to a sleeping position. "I'm making some green tea, you're going to drink it, and we're not going to have a stupid argument about this, because you don't have the energy and I don't have the patience. Great, I'm glad that's established."

He could hear Lovino walking around, being productive, but Antonio couldn't keep his eyes open. The room was freezing, and the only source of heat was muttering in Italian and opening and closing cabinets. He wanted…someone. Anyone. To just…hold him. Roderich would hold him.

Where was he? Why was his mind so silent? Was it because Antonio was exhausted beyond belief? His eyes fluttered close.

…

…

…

Someone was shaking him awake. "…up, come on. It's warm and it'll help. Get up or I swear I'll start playing _Here Comes the Sun _by The Beatles, and trust me that's an irritating song to have to wake up to."

Lovino's face finally swam into view. Antonio was processing everything too slowly. The fact that Lovino was helping him into a sitting position, the fact that a hot cup of green tea was shoved into his hands, the fact that his mouth tasted horrible, none of it seemed to add up. He drank automatically, because that was what Lovino was telling him to do, and Antonio couldn't think clearly enough to refuse and go back to sleep.

Then there were the pills Lovino shoved under his nose. Antonio took those too, unable to even acknowledge their poisonous taste. Lovino then took the nearly empty teacup from his hands—nearly empty? How did that happen?—before pushing Antonio's head back down to the couch.

Antonio was asleep in seconds.

* * *

Though Mondays were holidays for Lovino, it hadn't felt very restful at all. Between getting Antonio home and having him almost pass out in the bathroom, all Lovino was feeling was enormous stress. It was half past seven in the evening, but the man still hadn't stirred from the couch. He lay there in exactly the same position, eyes shut, breathing punctuated by soft coughs.

Lovino, meanwhile, tried to be as productive as he could. He'd scrubbed the bathroom with so much Lysol that it smelled like a chemical factory. He'd squared up Antonio's new room. Feli had come and gone, leaving Antonio's new clothes there. Emma had dropped in too, although Lovino had stepped outside the apartment with her because he didn't want her to see Antonio like that. She left some homemade soup for Antonio though, which was very sweet. Then, Lovino scrolled through the Dufour Chocolate Contest's website, trying to ignore the way his heart raced.

He still hadn't started making that new praline recipe.

In all honesty, he was having second thoughts about those cacao beans, too. There was a lot more to testing the quality of beans than just checking their colour and smell. Ideally, he should have been examining them for mould or worms as well. At this point, he'd called Ivan up and whined to him for a bit.

Poor Ivan had been at a family get-together, but had calmly told Lovino that he'd tested those beans out himself, to not worry, that everything was perfect, that it was all going to be okay, so please relax, we're going to win this chocolate contest.

Ivan was such a find.

Lovino had then checked Antonio's temperature by putting a hand on his forehead, almost cursing out loud at the way the man's skin scalded his own. That then prompted the forty-five minute exercise of pressing a wet cloth on Antonio's face. He still didn't wake up.

Pneumonia sounded like a shitty thing to be sick with.

Now, finally, Lovino was curled up on the sofa chair with a book Arthur had lent him—_Wuthering Heights_—although he couldn't shake off the fact that Alfred still had some of his favourite books, and Lovino hadn't yet returned his stuff either.

After twenty minutes of reading without paying attention to the words, he put the book away and reached for his phone.

**Lovino: Please drop off my books tomorrow. It's an intellectual apocalypse up in here.**

_Alfred: hahaha intellectual apocalypse? _

_Alfred: fine. I need my xbox back too because its a nightmare. My brain needs a break from police reports_

**Lovino: It's***

_Alfred: your as bad as arthur_

**Lovino: You're***

**Lovino: Arthur***

_Alfred: stop_

_Alfred: ooh how's toni? Dr. Wang told me he went home with you_

_Alfred: its so nice your taking him in_

**Lovino: Toni***

**Lovino: It's***

**Lovino: You're***

_Alfred: I WILL ARREST YOU_

**Lovino: An arrest without probable cause is against the law. **

**Lovino: Antonio's practically comatose on my couch.**

**Lovino: He has health insurance, along with a banged-up credit card. Obviously, he has a bank account. **

_Alfred: what's you're point_

**Lovino: Your***

_Alfred: WILL YOU JUST_

_Alfred: I can never win with you or arthur_

**Lovino: Arthur***

_Alfred: -.-_

**Lovino: This is one of those times when I will allow myself an emoji.**

**Lovino: XD**

_Alfred: Yeah yeah_

_Alfred: really, what's your point_

_Alfred: and don't correct my grammar_

**Lovino: My point is, he has a bank account but is being extremely cagey about personal information. **

**Lovino: My point is, he's hiding something.**

**Lovino: My point is, though he's endearing, I'm going to need to know more about him to trust him. **

**Lovino: If he has a bank account, he's in the system. **

**Lovino: Why don't you look up Antonio Fernandez Carriedo?**

_Alfred: "in the system" you sound like a TV show cop_

_Alfred: I'm not going to look him up without "probable cause"_

_Alfred: It's illegal_

_Alfred: tell me something that makes me think he's guilty of a crime, then we'll see_

**Lovino: I hate the fact that you're so fucking righteous.**

_Alfred: I hate that you always correct my grammar, so we're square_

_Alfred: anyway, I have to go_

_Alfred: the wonderful and fascinating world of documents calls to me_

_Alfred: what an adventure_

**Lovino: Bye.**

He poured himself a glass of wine before getting back to his book. He kept glancing at Antonio. Earlier, Feli had asked if Lovino needed help taking care of him, but honestly, he didn't. It came as a surprise to most people, but Lovino loved being the carer. It made him feel…useful. Which was something he didn't really get to experience much.

It wasn't something drastic and painful or anything. Lovino just knew that the things he did—making chocolate, running a store, competing against Francis—didn't really make a difference to anybody. Not really. Maybe Ivan wouldn't have a job he was this happy with. Maybe everyone would have to go without quality chocolate during the holidays, but that was about it. Lovino knew all about the environmental and economic side-effects of the global chocolate demand, so constantly ordering cacao beans actually just made him feel worse. But what could he do? He loved this job. He wasn't going to quit it.

So in many ways, Lovino knew his existence didn't matter much to the grand scheme of things. He didn't save lives in a hospital, he didn't give great speeches about non-violent civil disobedience to free countries from foreign powers, he didn't protest against human rights violations, nothing. He was completely normal.

And sure, he did do some good stuff. He loved giving chocolate to orphanages. He loved it when the children screamed and smiled and hugged his waist because they were so tiny and couldn't reach any higher. He pretended to hate it, but he actually enjoyed it very much.

But it wasn't enough. It didn't feel like enough.

So when he'd saved Antonio's life…he'd done something important. Something significant for someone else. And he'd happily make sure he was recovering, too. Because it was easy to say that he was helping Antonio, but the fact was Antonio was helping him right back.

From the corner of his eyes, Antonio stirred. Lovino lowered the book. Antonio's face had morphed into a frown, and without warning, he let out a gasp.

"Hey, are you all right?"

"No…" It was so slurred. Antonio whimpered and turned on his side. "No, don't go…Roderich…no…"

"What the fuck?" Lovino whispered to himself, putting the book down. He got off the sofa chair and took several quiet steps towards Antonio. There were tears slipping down his unconscious face. He was having a nightmare.

Antonio's words fell into incoherent mumbling but the tears only got worse. He was wincing and whimpering in his sleep. Fever and delirium always fucked the mind up. "Antonio, it's okay, nothing's wrong." He knelt beside him, gently shaking his shoulder. Lovino then pressed his hand to his forehead. Antonio's skin was as hot as ever.

"Goddammit." Lovino ran his fingers through Antonio's hair. It was dry and lifeless. "It's okay. You're safe. It's all right. Just calm down."

Antonio turned, pressing his face into Lovino's stomach. The gesture was so surprising that Lovino almost cried out, biting his bottom lip at the last minute. He wasn't a pillow, dammit. But…whatever. Lovino switched to rubbing circles on his back instead, telling him how it was safe and okay and all right.

Twenty minutes.

They sat like that for twenty minutes, Lovino's knees screaming as they pressed against the floorboards.

But Antonio finally quietened, going still in Lovino's arms. His breathing evened out, and Lovino sighed in relief.

That had been scary.

* * *

Antonio's eyes snapped open.

Everything was dark. There was only that huge window across the living room, its curtains pulled back. Even from his prone position on the couch, he could see the lights of the town. But Antonio couldn't make out any noises. Not yet.

His eyes adjusted slowly and he blinked. His head wasn't hurting, but it felt heavy. He felt heavy. Sweaty and groggy and tired. Each deep breath came with a slight shudder. But the room wasn't so cold anymore. In fact, the parka he was wearing was uncomfortably hot now.

Sounds started coming back. The hum of the refrigerator. The rustle of the blanket. Soft breathing.

Breathing? It wasn't him…

Antonio squinted in the darkness, his eyes slowly making out a figure on the sofa chair. Oh. Oh wow. Lovino had curled up on it, asleep. That couldn't have been comfortable…

Antonio forced himself upright, because the parka was starting to suffocate him. He unzipped it and pulled it off himself. He was so sweaty, it was disgusting. His mouth tasted bad. His shirt stuck to his body. He felt frail and unsteady, but he kicked the blanket off himself and swung his legs down. His unclothed feet touched the cold floorboards. Antonio rubbed his eyes.

Food.

He needed food.

What time was it?

He knew it had been afternoon when he'd thrown up and (fallen asleep? Fainted? A combination of both?). But his memories were vague and rather fuzzy. He'd had one nightmare, but something had driven it away. The rest of his sleep had been rather undisturbed.

Antonio could see the blinking light of Lovino's phone on the coffee table, and he reached out for it. The glow it emitted as he pressed random buttons was enough to tempt another headache, but he squinted and checked the time anyway before putting it aside.

It was half past four in the morning.

He'd been asleep for over twelve hours.

And he was now _starving_.

Antonio pushed himself off the couch, not stirring an inch as the world swayed around him. His brain acclimatised to the movement though, and he took a tentative step.

Would Lovino mind him raiding the fridge?

Antonio opened it, wincing as the yellow light shot into his eyes. He blinked and internally cussed as he glanced through the contents. The fridge was pretty empty, except for a box that must have contained chocolate and a carton of milk and orange juice. There were some Tupperware containers, probably holding leftovers, but Antonio didn't want that. He didn't trust his stomach yet.

Juice sounded good. Juice sounded safe. And it would go down easily, too. He reached out for it and put it on the counter. Antonio closed the fridge but didn't dare turn on the light. He didn't want to wake Lovino. But where were the glasses kept?

Antonio opened a cabinet. But he couldn't actually see anything. He stuck his hand in, but all he could feel were metallic utensils. He did that with the next one, too. But there were plates and bowls. He was also terrified he might end up breaking something.

"I mean, it would help if you turned on a light."

The voice made him jump almost three inches into the air, and he turned sharply. Lovino's silhouette slid off the sofa chair. Antonio heard him yawn and stretch, before he heard soft footsteps going across the room. A firm _click_, and the yellow bulb above the sink turned on.

Antonio blinked, trying to get used to it. He was dimly aware of Lovino going up to him, opening another cabinet and taking out a glass. "How are you feeling?"

"Better." Antonio's voice sounded rough and felt painful.

"At least you're conscious."

Antonio watched Lovino pour the juice for him. "Did I wake you?" Antonio asked in a small voice, mumbling a soft thank-you as Lovino gave him the glass.

"Not exactly. I've been waking up at random times you check on you, anyway."

"Oh! You didn't have to!"

"Are you mad? You were asleep for so long, I was legitimately afraid you'd died."

Antonio wasn't sure if Lovino was joking or not, but there wasn't a trace of humour on his face. Antonio sat at the dining table as Lovino started on making himself a cup of coffee. The juice was gloriously cold. He knew he wasn't supposed to be having it so chilled, but it cooled him down from the inside. It changed the taste in his mouth, too, and filled his stomach. Swallowing wasn't even very painful.

"Do you want to eat something? I really recommend it," Lovino muttered without looking at Antonio. "My girlfriend stopped by and left you some soup. You want that?"

For the strangest reason, Antonio felt a little thrown at the mention of a girlfriend. For two weeks, he'd only heard of Ivan and Francis, Gilbert and Ludwig. He'd only spoken to Feli and Lovino. So the random inclusion of another person was…startling.

"You have a girlfriend?"

"The tone of surprise," Lovino retorted dryly, his tone slightly amused.

"No, I mean…well, you never mentioned her before."

"…I guess I didn't," Lovino agreed slowly, as though just realising this. "Emma," he added, as though trying to rectify a fault. "So, do you want the soup?"

Antonio drained his glass of juice but he was still so hungry. "I wouldn't mind."

"Great. It's in the fridge, a green box. Could you get it?"

"Yeah, okay."

It was chicken soup with lots of vegetables. It tasted like mush in Antonio's mouth, but Lovino had heated it in the microwave and the more he ate, the better he felt. Lovino felt Antonio's forehead, paused for a few seconds, and then said, "Yeah, I think your fever's broken."

They sat across from each other, with Lovino sipping his coffee. "I'll have to go to work in a couple of hours. Will you be okay alone?"

"I guess so. Don't worry about me. I'm far tougher than you think."

"Yeah. Okay."

Afterwards, Antonio lay down on the couch again and fell asleep, feeling healthier than he had in hours.

* * *

Lovino would have liked to amend his previous statement. He didn't 'not trust', Antonio. He just didn't know enough about him to be one hundred percent comfortable leaving him alone in his house with all his valuables. But somehow, they'd survived their first—rather difficult—night together. And Antonio seemed…nice. Really nice.

Lovino threw together a light breakfast with lots of fruit and porridge. He'd never eat something like this himself, but Feli had bought some from the store yesterday and told him it was really easy to eat and Antonio would appreciate that. He was still fast asleep when Lovino left the apartment, writing a note and placing it on the dining table.

He was very distracted at work. His movements were automatic, lacking his usual passion. Feli gave him this long, understanding look. "How's he doing?"

Lovino shrugged. "He'll live."

"Do you want me to check on him later?"

"Yeah. Do that." Lovino's eyes slid to the box he'd placed on the floor. He had to find a somewhere to keep that. Alfred's stuff. It would be strange to finally give all of that away. But he'd texted Alfred this morning. He was dropping off the books, too.

Argh, dammit.

**Lovino: Meet me for lunch?**

_Emma: But what about Toni?_

**Lovino: Toni? **

**Lovino: Not you too.**

_Emma: Huh?_

**Lovino: Nothing. Felicia's going to check on him later. **

_Emma: I'd love to meet up but I'm not sure if I can._

_Emma: We've got a new employee._

_Emma: Well, he's actually the boss's grandson :'D_

_Emma: And he's got a bad attitude._

_Emma: And I have to show him the ropes._

**Lovino: Who is this guy?**

_Emma: Ugh, some douche named Tim. _

_Emma: Nobody's telling me anything but I *think* he's a recovering addict._

_Emma: I don't even know. _

_Emma: Anyway, yeah, so the boss made him work here to get his life in order or something._

_Emma: And now I have to deal with it._

**Lovino: Sounds like you need to have lunch with me to work off all that stress. **

**Lovino: And this is where a flirtatious 'wink' face would be appropriate.**

_Emma: Haha xD_

_Emma: I'll try, but I'm not making any promises. _

**Lovino: Okay. Let me know. **

**Lovino: Good luck for your day. **

He waited for a response, but it never came. Lovino sighed, pocketing his phone. He so didn't want to deal with Alfred right now. He was tired, worried about Antonio, and now his girlfriend was busy. This was just turning out to be a bad day, wasn't it?

* * *

Confrontation. Facing fears. Looking terror in the eye and saying, _fuck you._

"Fuck you," Lovino whispered quietly at the ingredients before him. Ivan, a few feet away, snorted to himself without looking up. Lovino's eyes wandered to him for a moment. Ivan was pouring chocolate into moulds. So easy. So painless.

And here Lovino was, confronting his fear of failure.

There was a bowl of those exquisite cacao beans from Ecuador. An unopened bottle of coffee liqueur. Powdered sugar. A bottle of honey. A bowl of chopped hazelnuts. Edible silver glitter.

"Are you just going to stand there and cuss at it, or are you actually going to get started?" Ivan teased, still not looking up.

"Shut up."

This was it. This was the recipe. He had to do it. Lovino had been putting this off for too freaking long. He had to make it, he had to taste it, and he absolutely had to win the Dufour Chocolate Contest. And he would. Because this was the perfect praline recipe. Because he'd never made anything like this before. Because he'd been working on his for several months.

"On second thought, the edible glitter makes it look like a whore among chocolates," Lovino groaned, burying his head in his hands.

"Whore among chocolates," Ivan repeated, this time looking up and blinking at Lovino. "That's a pretty tasteless description, even for you."

"Tasteless description for a tasteless chocolate," Lovino quipped darkly, not lifting his head from his hands. "This needs work. It's not ready. I can't do this."

"Not again." Ivan took the mould tray and put it in the freezer, before turning on his heels and marching up to Lovino. He placed both hands on Lovino's shoulder, spun him around to look him in the eye, hunched his shoulders to get to Lovino's level and firmly said, "The. Recipe. Is. Amazing."

"You don't know that! We've not made it yet!"

"And why is that?" Ivan drawled.

Lovino went scarlet. "Because I—it doesn't feel right."

"You just think so because you're worried it'll be anything less than perfect."

"But it will!"

"Of course it will. But then we'll change it, add to it, fix it, and then it will be perfect. And we'll win. You'll see!"

"We're doomed."

"Lovino! Positive thinking!"

"I'm positive we're doomed."

"Okay, fine." Ivan crossed his arms, his lips becoming a thin line as he placed Lovino under a cold stare. "I'll make it myself, if you're so worried."

"What—no! I—I mean, this is—_my recipe_! Don't you think I should—oh, whatever the fuck." Lovino's mind was at it again, with fifty different—mostly pointless—opinions flying about. Almost like a parliamentary debate, honestly. He wanted to make this chocolate. But he also didn't. He wanted Ivan to do it for him. But he also wanted to do it himself. He thought the recipe was flawless. But he also thought it could be improved. Feli thought the edible glitter would make it pretty and Lovino had agreed with her. Now, he was having his doubts. Not just about the glitter, but of everything. Did honey go with coffee liqueur? Was the sugar enough? How dark did he want it to be, again?

Lovino took an actual step away from the kitchen counter, shaking his head with his eyes wide. "I need a moment."

"You're being melodramatic," Ivan informed him in a matter-of-fact tone as Lovino walked towards the storage room and shut the door behind him. He turned on the lights, their white glare making everything stand out sharply. There were boxes and sacks and more freezers, shelves and cases of chocolates ready for delivery.

Lovino went towards one of the many freezers. They made most of their chocolate beforehand and stored them there. There was no way they'd manage otherwise. He opened it, reaching out for a tray of pralines. He remembered making these yesterday.

Lovino was very firm with his employees. Eating the produce was flatly not allowed. What would they sell? What if they fell short? Even _Feli _usually adhered to this rule, proof of how strict Lovino was about it.

But…right now, he just needed a pick-me-up.

And nothing better than this.

They were very dark chocolates. Eighty percent cacao. Lovino picked one up and stared at its near-black exterior. The cocoa had been blended with cherry extracts, giving it the flavour an interesting, unexpected twist. And it had a rum filling, too.

This praline was called Mozart Symphony 25. An ostentatious name? Not in Lovino's opinion. The taste always reminded him of that particular musical piece. Dark, tart, sweetened and warmed by the rum, unravelling on his tongue better than the finest kiss.

This was, and always would be, Lovino's favourite chocolate.

And right now, he needed it.

He put it whole into his mouth, sucking on it. Eyes closed in pleasure as the cherry and the cacao hit him together, the rum breaking through the chocolate barrier, acting as an emulsifier, melting the rest of the praline down.

So good.

This was one of Lovino's triumphs. This was what had made food guides stop and turn heads, this was what had given him the initial success. Lovino owed so much to this little chocolate recipe.

He swallowed it too soon. Now he needed another. Just one more.

He opened the freezer again, already salivating at the thought. Another praline held between his fingers. Lovino put it in his mouth. It wouldn't solve his problem, but it would definitely inspire him to deal with it.

* * *

"Lovino!"

He shoved the tray of chocolates back into the freezer and jumped to his feet, just in time for Ivan to open the storage room door and peer inside. "Lovino!" he said again, "Alfred's here."

His heart gave an uncharacteristic start as Lovino wiped his hands on his apron. "He is?" Alfred's shirts and Xbox were in the kitchen, where the cleaning supplies were kept. Lovino hadn't any other place to store them.

This felt symbolic. He walked out of the storage room, found the box with Alfred's things and stared defiantly at the door leading to the front of the shop. Hopefully, this wouldn't be too awkward. His mind was on overdrive once again. He passed the counter with the untouched ingredients from before still sitting there. "Put those away," he mumbled to Ivan.

"What!? You're procrastinating _again_?"

"Just do it, Ivan. Please."

Lovino pushed the door open and stepped out. The yellow shop lights were so much softer than the glare of the white kitchen ones. Alfred was standing there, a box under his arm, dressed fully in his police officer uniform. He was peering intently at the selection of chocolates, but when Lovino approached the counter, he looked up and grinned. "Hey, you."

"Don't 'hey, you' me," Lovino muttered. "Let's not make this any more awkward than it has to be."

Alfred laughed, but his cheeks were slightly pink as he placed the box on the counter. It was filled to the brim with all of Lovino's favourite books. 'Boring classics', as Alfred had always called them. "That's everything," he said simply. "Sorry this took so long. I just kept forgetting."

"It's fine. I kept forgetting as well." Lovino handed Alfred his things. He'd made sure each shirt had been washed and ironed. He didn't want this to have been the sort of relationship where he returned Alfred's clothes dirty and smelly from months ago. Despite everything, he didn't hate Alfred. Could anybody, really?

"Thanks." Alfred took the box from Lovino and looked inside. "Oh! You washed them!"

"Yeah…"

"That's so cool. Thanks. I really appreciate it." He had this bright sunshine smile—as always—and then the expression gradually decreased into something a little more…tender. "I'm sorry again, Lovi. I hurt you pretty badly. There's really no excuse. I was selfish."

Lovino just stared at him for several seconds. There was nothing more to say. He was all right now. He averted his gaze. It had been a bad couple of months, but both of them had moved on. They were happy. But this still made him feel a little vulnerable. "It's all right. It doesn't matter. Shit happens."

"…Yeah…"

"You're happy with Kiku, aren't you?"

Alfred looked slightly guilty, but then the tiniest smile graced his lips. He nodded, shy. "Very."

"Then it's water under the bridge." Lovino paused, staring intently at his shoes.

"Um…yeah…Hehe…" He actually said 'hehe' aloud. It wasn't an uncomfortable laugh, but a word. Alfred plastered on another smile. "Speaking of water and bridges, how's Antonio doing?"

"He's fine."

"That's good. And…Emma?"

"She's…fine, too."

"Yeah? That's wonderful." Alfred cleared his throat and shifted his weight from one foot to another. "Anyway, I should really…"

"Yeah…it's a working day…"

"Yep…"

"Uh-huh…" Alfred took a step backwards and then another. "Thanks again, Lovino. See you later?" He let out a high, nervous laugh.

And then Alfred was gone.

Lovino sighed loudly, slumping against the nearest wall, pressing the bridge of his nose intermittently as he rubbed his eyes. Now he was going to need another chocolate.

* * *

"Hellooooo? Toni?" Felicia unlocked her brother's apartment with her set of spare keys and entered. In one hand she had soup, something she'd picked up from a restaurant. The house was completely quiet. She set the soup down on the dining table before calling out again. "Antonio? It's me, Feli!"

From the room that had once been Felicia's, she heard a noise. It was strange to think that there was someone else in her old room now, but she was secretly happy. At least it wasn't just lying there, abandoned. The door opened, and Antonio blinked wearily at her. "Oh, hey!"

He'd so obviously just woken up. He looked crumpled. Not just his clothes—which, Feli noticed were the same from yesterday morning—but also his hair, his posture, his general demeanour. He smiled at her before approaching.

"How do you feel?" Feli asked, lowering her voice in case he had a headache.

"Tired," Antonio laughed softly, on cue sitting down cross-legged on the couch, as though the walk from the bedroom to the living room had drained him.

"Did you eat anything?" Feli raised her eyebrows.

"I ate a bit of breakfast. I was basically just sleeping all day, though. I woke up a few minutes before you came. What time is it?"

"Lunch time. I got you some soup! Lovino asked me to check on you since he was really busy." She dropped her voice, leaned in closer to Antonio's face and whispered, "Plus, Alfred was dropping off his stuff and Lovino was returning Alfred's clothes, so I figured it was just better to clear off."

"Alfred?" Antonio frowned curiously. "Oh, you mean Officer Jones?"

"Yes! Him!"

"Why would Lovino have his shirts?"

Feli's stomach dropped. Crap. "He…didn't tell you, did he? Oh, oops." She buried her head in her hands. "I'm so ditzy sometimes."

Antonio cocked his head to the side. "Did they go out or something?"

Feli didn't look up, but she nodded.

"Oh."

At this, Felicia did look up. Antonio appeared a little bit…put out.

He said, "They appeared so comfortable with each other, though…"

"Yeah, they are. It's really strange, but I think it's okay. Alfred's a good person, really."

"He seemed nice," Antonio was staring flatly at the wall behind her.

Huh? This was…odd behaviour. Feli narrowed her eyes for a fraction of a moment, but didn't bother commenting. Antonio's eyes sparkled again as he looked back at her, a grin on his face. "How has your day been going so far?"

"Oh, it's been all right." She went to the dining table, uncapping the plastic container of soup and taking out two bowls from the cabinet. "Do you like your new room?"

"Yes! It's lovely! It used to be yours, right?"

"Yeah!" Feli turned and grinned at him. "Lots of memories in that room, both good and bad. But I'm happy Lovino has someone staying with him again. He wouldn't say, but I always thought he was a little lonely after I left." Feli placed the two bowls beside each other in the microwave. "I mean, he tried asking Emma—did he tell you about Emma?—to move in with him, but she didn't want to take it so fast, you know?"

"He told me about Emma," Antonio said quietly.

"That's great! Well, anyway, I'm sure he likes the company. Lovi's way too proud to ask for other people's time. He can be unintentionally funny like that." Feli giggled. She loved talking about her brother. He was so cute. Literally everything he did made her want to laugh, sometimes with him, and sometimes at him.

"Is it all right if I have a shower?"

Felicia turned, giving Antonio a questioning look. "You don't need my permission."

His cheeks darkened and he looked away. "I didn't want to intrude or anything…"

"Don't be silly! Of course you can have a shower. Do you need help figuring out the faucets? You know, the knobs for hot and cold water?"

"No, I'll do it myself." He smiled at her now. "I'll eat and have a shower. I've been feeling so gross."

"Yeah, it'll refresh you!" Though a thought entered her mind, and Felicia blurted it out without even thinking. Luddy had kept telling her about being careful of what she said, but Feli knew she had this nasty habit of just spouting everything she thought of. Now, she asked, "But you'll be all right, won't you? It must have been so awful to almost drown, and then the thought of having a shower…"

Antonio gave her a blank look. "Well, I took showers in the hospital too…"

"Yeah, but you weren't totally alone back then!"

He tilted his head to the side, giving her a slightly amused smile. "I've had worse things happen to me than one incident of near-drowning. I promise I'm not traumatised or anything."

Felicia just stared. "What? What's worse than almost drowning?"

"Actually drowning?" Antonio's eyes glittered with humour.

Felicia smiled. It was a soft, hesitant, cautious smile. This whole conversation didn't seem entirely normal. She stared at him. Antonio's sickly, thin body with his floppy hair falling over his eyes. What had happened to him?

Somewhere in the back of her mind, the microwave beeped. She forced herself to look at it, staring at the digital green numbers without registering them. "That's done," she said, more to herself than to Antonio. "Let's eat."

* * *

-/-

* * *

_"Let's talk about curtains."_

...

...

...

I wish we hadn't.

* * *

**A/N: I am having genuine confidence issues about the writing quality of this fic. This chapter was difficult to write, and I have no idea why. I'm just glad it's over, haha. I'm so excited about the next one! :D**

**EDIT: Yes, the ending _is _supposed to confuse you. I promise it's all leading up to something. xD **

**EDIT 2: Antonio's reaction to Lovino's relationships...is not jealousy. THINGS WILL BECOME CLEARER NEXT CHAPTER, I PROMISE XD **

**Thanks for reading! Please review :D **


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: ****It was so much fun to see you guys guessing about the ending of the last chapter x'D. **

**But, I would just like to repeat something mentioned in the Author's Note of chapter one: **_**This story takes place in a fictional country/city/town**_**. If you so wish, you can also imagine it's set in a fictional continent. Really, the setting is **_**entirely fictional and bears no intentional similarities to a real place. **_**Although yes, I wouldn't blame some for thinking this is set in America—after that bit about Lovino's grandparents immigrating from Italy—**_**but it's not America**_**. I've never been to the States before. Why on earth would I dare set a story there? (Even setting a story like **_**As We Were **_**in France was a huge gamble for me; I've never been there either.)**

**Also, I'm really sorry for this late update. I was super stressed and busy, I had a bit of a relapse, it was a **_**mess. **_**But I'm happy to finally be working on this again! :D**

**Tim**** – I'm sorry I forgot to mention this, but he's supposed to be Netherlands.**

**And to the guest reviewer: it's "not right" for Antonio to be okay and healthy in _my fics_ because I love it when he's vulnerable. That isn't to arbitrarily dismiss the quality of Antonio as a mentally/physically/emotionally healthy character. I've read so many fics where Antonio is both healthy and multi-dimensional. It's just...I'm really weird, and I very much enjoy putting Antonio through hell. xD **

* * *

Two Weeks Later

* * *

"Lovi? Are you in?" Feli peered into the shop from its window. It was Monday, the one day in the week they had an off. There was no reason for Lovino to be here. But Antonio had told her he'd left home early. The sign still read 'Closed', so even if he was here, he wasn't doing any actual business. Lovi had promised he'd have breakfast with her (and Ludwig!), but he never turned up. Feli had just assumed he didn't want to hang around Ludwig, which wasn't fair, honestly.

He'd been getting strangely snappy lately. He was always snappy, but now it was happening more often. She pushed the door open and it swung easily. Unlocked, then. "Loooovi?" There was nobody at the counter. Felicia went to the kitchen, not bothering to cover her hair or wear an apron.

The kitchen had signs of life. The counter top was a mess. Lovino hated leaving things so messy in his kitchen. But there was edible glitter all over the place, an open bottle of coffee liqueur just sitting there, and to Feli's horror, a bowl of molten chocolate dumped all over the floor. It was horrible. Lovino would hate something like this happening. Wasting chocolate? No way. Just no way.

She knelt, touching some of the chocolate. This had to be from those Ecuador beans. Lovi's new praline recipe called for those. They were expensive and in short supply. What on earth was Lovi playing at?

"Lovino! Is everything all right?" Felicia's eyes darted about the kitchen. He wouldn't be in the toilet, she just knew that. No, when Lovi got stressed out, he hid in the storage room. She crossed the floor towards it and pushed the door open. At least it wasn't locked.

But it _was _dark, though. Feli's hand flew automatically to the wall, hitting the switch. The bright clinical white light made Lovino groan.

He was sitting curled up in a ball on the floor, his back pressed to one of the freezers. He didn't look up at all, he just buried his head deeper into his knees.

"Oh my god, Lovi, what happened?" Feli was on her knees in an instant, trying to awkwardly hug him. He didn't stir. He didn't even look up.

"Go away. I'm busy," he mumbled softly, hugging himself even tighter, if possible.

"Lovino! You're freaking me out! What's wrong? Did you have a fight with Emma?"

Lovino raised his head just a little. Enough for Feli to see his bloodshot, tear-stained eyes. "Go. Away."

"It was Emma, wasn't it?"

"No. Felicia, I'm asking you to leave."

"I'm not leaving when you're like this. What's wrong?"

"JUST—fucking—just _go_, dammit!" Lovino jumped to his feet so suddenly that Felicia fell backwards onto the floor. He dashed out of the storage room before Feli could even comprehend what had happened. All she heard was loud cussing and a terrible _crash_ before footsteps stormed across the kitchen and slammed the door shut.

Lovi had thrown the coffee liqueur bottle on the floor, making it shatter. He'd smashed a couple of glass bowls, too. And now, he was gone.

* * *

Lovino could not, would not fuck up. His reputation was on the line. His self-worth. This was the only thing he was good at, the _only thing_. Yes, he'd made mistakes before, but he'd just been learning back then. But now? At this level? Anything less than perfection was. An. Abomination.

Antonio was curled up with his feet on the couch and a blanket over him as he watched TV. But the way Lovino thundered into the house, throwing the door open, slamming it shut, tearing through the living room and then locking himself inside his room—roar roar bang bang stomp stomp stomp—was enough for Antonio to widen his eyes and almost fall off the sofa in an attempt to jump up and help. But Lovino didn't care. He didn't need Antonio. Antonio needed _him. _

UGH WHATEVER

WHATEVER WHATEVER WHATEVER

Could he ever just get his brain to _SHUT THE FUCK UP_? Why was it always so violent? Why was it always so taut? Why was it always waiting for the moment to rise up and snip him to pieces. This was always crumbly and that always needed more sugar and this was just all _wrong_ and _yes_, his chocolates were beautiful, but that was because his brain was constantly telling him how to correct the flaws.

Three soft knocks made Lovino raise his aching head. He felt like he had a hangover. Well, he probably was getting there, considering he'd finished two whole boxes of his rum chocolates and still felt not the slightest bit satisfied.

_Just go away._

"Lovino? May I come in?"

_Let me sort this out on my own._

Only dimly aware was he of the fact that he was curled up on the floor with his back against the wall, dry sobs escaping his body in heaving, wracking gasps. He was just so angry. Just so fucking angry. He should have been able to make the praline. He should have been able to arrange all the ingredients right. He should have been able to control his anxiety.

Lovino Vargas. Tagline: _he should have been able to._

"Go away," Lovino replied weakly. His voice broke. "Can't you see I'm busy?"

On the other end, Antonio paused. Lovino knew it was a pause and not a final silence. He could almost _hear _the other man's need to speak again. And finally, Antonio's voice, gentle, sweet, permeated through the door. "Shall I tell your sister you're home safe?"

Oh.

Wow. That was slightly unexpected. Lovino had anticipated something along the lines of, _no, open the door and let me love you and wipe your tears and make everything okay baby Lovi_. The sort of cooing that Feli would have subjected him to.

"Do what you want," Lovino snarled back.

On the other end, Antonio chuckled softly. Another pause, and then he said, "All right, I've texted her!"

"And tell her to stay the fuck away! I don't want to talk to her!"

"…Okay." Pause. "Okay, done. She just responded. She says that you should relax and that everything will be fine."

"Whatever." Lovino muttered the word only for his ears, burying his head in his knees again. Anger and fear had broken away, giving into exhaustion. Lovino just wanted to sit there. He just wanted to sit there and regain his strength.

Antonio spoke up again. "Can I make you some coffee?"

Huh.

Interesting.

Why wasn't he forcing his way through? Not that Lovino minded. It was simply what he'd expected. Of whatever little he'd seen of Antonio in the last two weeks, the man appeared rather cheerful and insistent on making friends. Unsure, yes, scared even. But friendly.

"Coffee sounds good," he finally conceded.

"All right! I'll be right back."

True to his word, Antonio was back in under ten minutes, knocking softly. Lovino only allowed his head to peer suspiciously through the crack as he opened the door, his eyes meeting Antonio's bright green ones.

Antonio had started looking more human. Once colour returned to his features, so did a healthy tan. His hair seemed more lustrous now, and his cheeks had become a little less sallow. Dr. Wang was also rather taken by the leaps in his health. Antonio wasn't even coughing as much, although he was told not to overdo it or exert himself in anyway.

Right now, he just smiled warmly, handing Lovino the cup. "May I come inside?"

Ah, there it was.

Lovino took the coffee from him. "No." And then he slammed the door in Antonio's face.

* * *

_Curtains._

_Curtains._

_Curtains._

Will you please shut up? Seriously, just shut up. I'm actually feeling happy today. Can't you let me enjoy that?

_No. You're not allowed happiness._

Shut. Up.

_Curtains. Red, blue, violet, green._

It's like my brain has a mind of its own…

_You know what they say is the first sign of madness? When you refer to yourself as separate from your mind. Are you finally going mad?_

It's just a phrase, Roderich. You know, I can shut you up if I want. I'm not schizophrenic or something. I know I'm just talking to myself. I know that everything you think is everything I think. So if I want you to shut up, you will shut up.

_Is that so? Well, try._

…

…

…

_I'm still here. _

_Dear Antonio. I'll always be here. And I will never, ever, ever let you move on. _

* * *

Antonio was staring—no, studying—the kitchen knives. Lovino could see him from this angle. Antonio was chopping carrots for dinner. He'd taken to cooking the meals as his strength returned, just to help Lovino with his day. Now, with Lovino's room door just so slightly parted, he could watch Antonio from behind. He had two huge knives in his hands, and was scrutinising both of them.

Maybe they were different than what he was used to? Lovino never had to study the knives to just pick one. But each knife could cut in a different way. Some were broader than others, less sharp. Others tapered at the ends. Some were serrated. People obsessed with food would insist that this made a difference in cooking.

Finally, Antonio opened a drawer and put one of them away. With the other one, he attacked another carrot on the chopping board.

Lovino let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. He still felt very…tired. Very upset. There was an emptiness about it. After feeling too much, now he felt nothing at all. This was just as bad as the other extreme, because now he just felt completely disconnected from the rest of the world. Like a streamer of paper men with Lovino left out.

It was night now. There were several texts on his phone from Feli and Emma. Felicia must have told her about his little…episode. Thing. Whatever. Lovino pushed his door open further and took a tentative step. He stood at the threshold as though expecting applause.

Antonio looked up, startled. And then a huge grin spread on his face. "Oh! There you are! I was just starting on dinner. How are you feeling?"

"Do you…" Lovino's voice was scratchy and dry. "Do you want to just order pizza? It's easier. Can you stomach pizza?"

Antonio's smile faltered for a moment. "But I was just cutting some carrots. There's this cool recipe I found for—"

"Tomorrow. We'll have that tomorrow. Right now, I just really want a pizza with extra cheese."

Antonio's face brightened again. "All right. If that's what you want." He went for the antique cordless phone that Lovino never used but for some reason still owned, punching in the number of a pizza joint from a menu card he found in the cupboard. Lovino's eyes slid over him. Emptiness. Daze. Wine.

That would make things better. A very large glass of wine.

It was cheap crap, but the bottle was new. Mechanically, he uncorked it, finding himself a glass from the overhead cabinet. He stared at the array of wine glasses for a moment before taking out one more, for Antonio. Was Antonio allowed alcohol? Lovino couldn't remember.

He just couldn't.

That could be his second tagline.

Lovino Vargas:

_He should have been able to._

_He just couldn't._

Great. They sounded good together. Perfect.

Antonio was still on the phone with the pizza guy. Lovino didn't bother pouring him a glass. He just left it empty on the kitchen counter next to the knife and the semi-chopped carrots and took his huge helping of the drink out to the awning.

The awning.

Climbing out here always required a bit of concentration. He opened the window and slowly put his legs over it. His unclothed feet touched the metal sheets. Balancing a wine glass in one hand and the bottle in the other, Lovino stood up and took a very small, very delicate step forward. There was a bit of a slant. He didn't want to slip, roll and then fall over the edge. Sure, it wasn't very much of a drop, but why test his luck?

The awning was nestled between the side walls of the building. It was enough for Lovino to support himself on as he took a few more small steps before slowly lowering his body and crossing his legs underneath him as he sat. Unscathed. Great.

From here, he could see the town's lights. He could see the river, too. It was right there, in the distance, cutting through the landscape. Streetlamps and yellow glows from windows. He felt calmer out here. Less angry at himself.

"Mind if I join you?"

Antonio's voice was soft enough to not disturb the magnetic silence. Lovino nodded without looking at him. He heard a clatter of footsteps and some cussing in Spanish before Antonio's figure was suddenly beside him, sitting down and staring into the horizon. Antonio had a small glass of wine in his hand and now he took a sip.

"Look at that moon!" he gushed, although his voice was still oddly soft.

Lovino's eyes wandered towards it. A full moon. "It's fine."

They fell silent for a few minutes.

"Do you feel better now?"

"Not especially, no."

"Is there anything I can do to help?"

"Can you make the perfect praline?"

Antonio blinked. The light of the town reflected in his eyes and he tilted his head to the side, regarding Lovino curiously. "I'm afraid not."

"…So then don't bother offering." Lovino dropped his gaze to his lap. "I told you about the The Dufour Chocolate Contest? It's…well, a big deal. It's still months away but we need to present original recipes. The best one according to the judges wins. Francis and I have both applied, I've told you."

"Oh! Right, you're in competition with him."

"It's not so simple!" Lovino snapped, glaring at Antonio. "I could take Francis any day of the week. It's just—fuck it, you won't understand."

But in fact, Antonio's eyes lit up. "Actually, I think I do."

"What?"

"You're one of those perfectionists, aren't you?" Antonio had a ghost of a smile on his face. "You feel like because you're good at something, you need to be better at it. Isn't that right?"

Lovino narrowed his eyes. "I'm not—"

"I knew lots of musicians," Antonio suddenly blurted, his hands going up in vague but excited gestures. "Most of them were perfectionists. Actually, I believe all artists are perfectionists. And _oh_, there was this one guy. He was the _worst_. A pianist. Genius, you know? Absolutely brilliant at what he did. But he was always so upset when he missed even one little note, or when the alla marcia wasn't the way he wanted it to be, or when the arioso felt wrong. I could never tell. Never. But he could, and he just hated it. He'd throw such a fit, I can't even—" and Antonio broke off. His eyes flit between despair and blankness for an odd second, before resting on Lovino with a gentle, understanding smile. "Is it something like that?"

Lovino felt a slow warmth creep up to his face. It was the familiar sort of uncomfortable. Dammit. He was blushing. Why was he blushing? This made no sense! Lovino changed his seating position to hug himself. He was feeling vulnerable.

"I thought I had this amazing recipe. But I can't even get myself to make it. It's amazing in theory, but now when I try to make it, it just seems…wrong. And I can't let Ivan and Feli make it because—well—I know they won't mess up, but—"

"But it's your recipe and you want to be the first to make it?" Antonio guessed, his eyes wandering over to the view of the town. Lovino just sipped his wine for a bit before he spoke.

"Pretty much, yeah."

Antonio chuckled again, softer and sadder. He didn't look at Lovino. "You're reminding me of a friend of mine right now…so much."

"Your pianist?" Lovino mused. "How does a homeless guy even know a bunch of musicians?"

Antonio laughed. Hollow. Tired. He didn't reply.

Lovino rolled his eyes and said nothing. He felt…snubbed. Honestly. Snubbed. Angry, scared and now dismissed, like yesterday's newspapers. Antonio depended so completely on Lovino right now. Why wasn't he telling him things? Didn't Lovino have the right to know?

"When he got into these moods, it would be horrible. He would barely eat or drink. He'd lock himself in his study and snap at everyone who dared talk to him. He wouldn't even come to bed!"

Lovino raised an eyebrow, angling his head slightly. "Wait a minute. Are you talking about a _boyfriend_?"

Antonio went absolutely scarlet. Lovino didn't have to see his skin to know it. He could tell from the man's expression. "No," Antonio stated carefully. "No. He wasn't—no. No."

"All right. Calm down. God."

"My _point _was, he was very high-maintenance. The more you scrutinise something, the more flaws you find. So it was always the challenge—get him to play his pieces without obsessing over them."

"Uh-huh. And how did you manage that?"

"Weeeell…" Antonio's voice trailed away. "Different things. One day I was in the kitchen so I banged some pots and pans around to make an awful lot of noise. Another time I was talking very loudly on the phone." His lips turned upwards coyly. "There was this one time where—actually never mind, it's embarrassing."

"You still haven't made your point, you know," Lovino drawled. Although it was amusing to see Antonio gush about the non-boyfriend. It was a waiting game. The best made chocolates revealed their taste slowly. And the same could be said for Antonio.

"Just…don't scrutinise it," Antonio concluded. "You know the recipe. So just…make it. And don't worry. Because perfection is impossible, anyway."

"So your advice is, 'perfection is impossible, so you might as well fuck up'?"

"Well, when you put it that way…"

Lovino took a large gulp of the wine. His head was slightly light now. "Care to start work tomorrow? There's a lot for you to learn."

Antonio's smile was so wide, it made Lovino's headache worse.

* * *

_Emma: Are you okay?_

_Emma: Lovi?_

_Emma: Feli told me you were really upset._

_Emma: I would have come over but I was stuck at work._

_Emma: Tim and I were manning the store together and he still knows nothing. So I couldn't just leave._

_Emma: I'm sorry :(_

_Emma: Lovi?_

…

**Lovino: I'm okay.**

* * *

-/-

* * *

"Theobroma Cacao! It's Greek for the term 'food of the gods'."

"Isn't it also the scientific name for the cacao bean?"

Felicia turned and grinned at Antonio. "Very good. Yes, yes it is." She pushed the door open. As soon as he stepped past the threshold, the smells rushed up to claim him. He'd never been inside an actual chocolate shop before. The fragrance was incredible, rich and bitter but yet pleasantly sweet. Antonio took a deep breath, letting it pass over and soothe his raw throat. Beside him, Lovino smirked.

Felicia giggled. "Smells nice, doesn't it?"

"Yes," Antonio whispered, his eyes travelling over the gorgeous assortment of chocolates behind the glass case. "It's amazing." He took in the plaques on the walls, his eyes lighting up at each one. This place was better than he'd imagined it would be. It was like a magical wonderland.

Feli looked at her brother. "Should I start with sales or process?"

"What's the point of teaching him how to sell chocolate if he doesn't know how it's made?" Lovino retorted coolly. "Process. I'll handle customers." He seemed a lot more composed than he was yesterday, if a bit distant. Antonio hadn't brought up Lovino's episode. Lovi maybe didn't want to discuss it with him. Antonio felt Felicia's small hand tugging his wrist towards a door behind the counter.

"Come, Toni! You're going to see how we make chocolate!"

* * *

There was a large man with silver-blonde hair in a cap, who looked up when Feli dragged Antonio into the kitchen. But the first thing Antonio noticed was the smell. Inside here, it was ten times more powerful, enough to choke in. Rich, head-ache inducing goodness that irritated Antonio's lungs. He managed a discreet cough behind his hands. Outside, it had been soothing. In here, the aroma was grated against his respiratory tract.

"Oh, hello!" the man said cheerfully. "Is this him, Felicia?"

Feli grinned. "Yup! Ivan, this is Antonio. Antonio, this is Ivan."

"Hello," Antonio said, taking Ivan's outstretched hand. "Nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you too! You're going to be working with us? Welcome!"

Antonio chuckled. He was feeling weirdly shy. "Thank you. Although I know nothing about this business."

Ivan waved his hands about dismissively. "I didn't know a thing either! Lovino taught me. I just needed a job urgently and he was very kind." His eyes warmed up as his smile grew. "We're like family here, so don't worry. You'll get all the help you need!"

"Aww," Feli cooed. "That's so sweet, Ivan."

"Yeah, that's really sweet of you to say," Antonio stuttered. He was feeling fully embarrassed now.

"Do you need an extra apron and cap?" Ivan asked Feli.

"Yes, that would be required."

"I think there's a spare set in the store room. Let me go check."

Once Antonio was wearing an apron and had all his hair in a cap, Feli clapped her hands together. "Let's just show you the ropes."

* * *

_Step number one: Roast the cacao beans. This sterilizes them while also increasing flavour and making the beans easier to crack._

Felicia led Antonio to a large cylindrical drum roaster kept over a gas drill. There was a thermometer under the drum and it rotated on some sort of motor. "There are lots of ways to roast cacao beans, but if you're doing it professionally, this is the best. It's flexible with good consistency and basically, you get the best product from very little manual labour!" Feli laughed as she ended her speech. "You have to first pre-heat the grill, then load the drum and place it onto the grill when it's up to temperature. Following me so far?"

Antonio frowned thoughtfully. "Roasting. Pre-heat. Got it."

"Excellent." Feli then started discussing enormous technicalities. Antonio had to stop her several times to get her to repeat things, until Feli finally fished out a notepad and a pencil from somewhere and asked Antonio to take notes.

"You'll get this nice brownie-like smell, that tells you that the cacao beans are cracking. It takes experienced guessing to know when they're done, really. Cacao beans have a very narrow window of good roasting. It'll take practice!"

_Step number two: Crack the beans. After roasting, the "nibs" must be cracked and winnowed._

Feli went on and on about roasting beans before excitedly dragging Antonio off to what looked like a kind of mill. There was a huge bowl-like thing attached to some more machinery Antonio didn't quite understand. But the general idea was that you put the roasted beans in the bowl, ran the machine, and like magic, the beans would get cracked.

_Step number three: Winnow the nibs. Once cracked, you need to remove the leftover husks of the beans._

"And now you have two parts. The husk and the roasted nib. Yes, roasted nibs are a specialty item, but very few people order it. It's more like a hardcore chocoholic thing," Feli explained. "But it's important to separate the husk and the nib. Following me so far?"

"Yeah," Antonio replied as he took notes in bad shorthand. "Go on."

Feli gestured to a huge machine that took up almost half the wall it was placed against. "Meet the Aether Winnower. Not to sound like an advertisement, but this thing is really, really cool."

Once again, the machine did all the work. All the chocolatier had to do was put the roasted, cracked beans on one end and it would come out separated, husk and nib.

_Step number four: Grind the nibs into cocoa liquor._

"Chocolate has alcohol content!?" Antonio asked loudly, making Ivan laugh to himself from all the way across the kitchen. Feli giggled too.

"No, that's just what it's called. It's a really important step, okay? So pay attention." Placed on a counter was what looked like a juicer. "You feed the nibs into this, run it—slowly, patiently, or you'll break the machine—and then out comes the thick, liquefied mass. Cocoa liquor!" Turning to Ivan, Feli ordered, "Can we show him some? Just so he knows what it looks like?"

Ivan, who'd been feeding something decidedly brown and chocolate-like into another machine, nodded and went up to them. In the bowl in his hand was something very dark, very strong-smelling and sort of semi-solid. "Cocoa liquor," he explained simply.

"Oh," Antonio replied.

"Yep. You usually add your cocoa butter in at this stage," Feli explained as Ivan walked away. "What Ivan showed you had almost no cocoa butter because he's working on a very dark chocolate."

"Wait." Antonio pressed the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes. "Cocoa butter?"

"Oh! Yeah! That's the fat content. It' s the unhealthy part," Feli said with a cheeky smile. "You know white chocolate, right? That's almost pure cocoa butter. Not a single bit of actual cacao bean in it."

"Ohh. Okay. Thanks!"

_Step number five: Measure all the other ingredients you'd need. _

"This is where you can get creative! And Lovi is the master of this stage. Some of the things he comes up with…You know, he once put Cayenne pepper in with vanilla."

"Oh god, what?"

"Yes, and it was _incredible_. Because the chocolate was spicy when you bit it and had this amazingly sweet aftertaste."

Antonio regarded the woman with a dubious frown. "Okay. If you say so."

Felicia laughed. "Well, it takes some getting used to, I won't deny that. Moving on!"

_Step number six: Conching and refining._

There was a huge wet grinder at the end of the room. "This is basically where we break down the cocoa liquor, add all the ingredients and make it into a gorgeous liquid drink, smooth as it gets." Felicia pointed into the grinder, where Antonio could see the most delicious brown stuff swirling about. "Conching can change the taste and smell and texture of the chocolate, while refining breaks down the sold parts—the cocoa solids and the sugar crystals. When you have the right equipment—like we do—you can tackle both steps in one go!"

_Step number seven: Tempering._

"And that takes us to our most difficult step. Tempering the chocolate. We have machinery for this, too."

"Yeah, machinery which broke down and had to be replaced," Ivan muttered darkly. "That was a _bad _day, Feli."

Felicia laughed, turning to Antonio. "Well, it's been replaced and that's what matters. Anyway. Tempering is really what gives the chocolate that shiny exterior, its smoothness and that pleasant _snap_ sound when you break it. And the plus point is that you can always redo tempering if you get it wrong! You just need to make sure you don't get any moisture into the chocolate, because that would spell disaster."

"Okay. Got it. And?"

"The manual way to do it is that you melt the chocolate and keep spreading it on a granite counter. We're basically controlling temperature and smoothness. But since our shop makes these chocolates on a large scale, we've got a tempering machine that does the job for us."

"There are a lot of machines," Antonio commented with a small smile.

"Rampant commercialism!" Ivan complained dramatically.

"He is somewhat of a Leftist," Feli explained with a grin.

_Step number eight: Pour the chocolate into moulds and let it set._

"It seems easy," Feli warned, "But it isn't. It can spill all over. So we use large plastic syringes, it's far cleaner."

"And then you just…freeze it?"

"Yep. All the freezers are in the storage room!"

"Wow." Antonio lowered his notepad and pencil. "That's what your day is like, huh?"

"Yup! It's fun!"

Antonio leaned softly against the counter. "Can we sit down now? I'm a little tired."

Feli frowned in concern. "Oh yeah, I almost forgot! You're still recovering. Of course. Let's go outside."

* * *

"What did you think of the tour?" Lovino asked when Antonio was sitting on the chair behind the counter. "Sounds like your kind of thing?" Feli was inside the kitchen now. It was just the two of them. Lovi was wiping the glass case with a rag as Antonio took small sips of Gatorade.

"It was so cool," Antonio gushed. "I didn't know there was so much involved, you know? I actually never gave it much thought, from bean to chocolate. It's all very technical."

"It's an exacting science," Lovino declared simply, not making eye-contact with Antonio. "Wait till you actually start making the stuff yourself. It's all about temperature control, flavours, consistency, and there are very small windows for these things. You mess up, and you're dead. Cacao beans are expensive to buy, so we can't afford to waste anything." He said it like he was trying to remind himself of the fact.

"I don't want to mess up," Antonio replied in a small voice.

"You will," Lovino replied with a shrug. "You can't be good at this overnight. It's okay. I've made awful messes myself in the past." There was a short silence as Lovino worked, before he started the conversation again, saying, "I mean, there's a lot to running a business. Especially with competitors like Francis. Everything counts. Presentation. Products. Friendliness with customers. Variety. Even websites! Francis has this fancy as shit website for his chocolate shop and ours sort of sucks. And I have no clue how to do this tech stuff, so it's just _there_, languishing in its mediocrity. I don't even know what to—"

"Oh! I know how to make cool websites! I did that for—" and Antonio suddenly stopped. He looked at Lovino with wide, horrified eyes. Lovino had paused his cleaning to stare straight at Antonio, golden irises unblinking.

"You know how to make websites?" Lovino asked quietly.

"Um. Yeah." Antonio swallowed.

Another long silence. Lovino looked like he was going to actually outright _ask_, but then he averted his gaze and quietly said, "Do you think you can make one for us? A nice one?"

"Yeah. Sure. Why not?" Antonio replied robotically, swallowing some more. God, that was close, that was too close. He so didn't want to talk about _before_.

"Cool," Lovino replied at length. "That's something you can work on, then. Later."

"Okay. No problem."

* * *

"Customers? Yeah, we've got lots of regular customers," Ivan told Antonio later. Feli was outside, talking to Lovino. Antonio was alone in the kitchen with Ivan, who was washing some spoons.

* * *

"_There's Vash. He's our oldest customer."_

Antonio watched quietly, studying exactly how Felicia made this sale. She chatted excitedly to him, with the blonde man replying in monosyllables as he studied the produce.

Ivan's words came back to Antonio.

"_He's the bank manager. Always buying chocolates for his little sister, Erika. Poor Erika is on a wheelchair, some sort of childhood accident, I don't know. But the siblings love chocolate. Vash also buys a few boxes for the customers at his bank. Keeps them content, you know?"_

"Where's your foul-tempered brother?" he asked mildly, almost amused as Feli kept talking.

"_Loves guns. Loves them. Very private person, too. Doesn't really have too many guests over. But he's rich and likes to spend his money on us. Poor people skills, though. It's almost amusing, because he and Lovi sometimes get into arguments. But Vash keeps coming back to our shop. Oldest customer and the most loyal."_

"He's inside! Making the chocolates you love!"

"Oh, that's good. You know what, I'll have a box full of your Swiss milk chocolate squares."

"As always, huh?" Feli teased as she slid the glass case open.

"It's the best."

…

…

…

"_Then there's Arthur. He usually just comes here to banter with Lovino. Arthur is a cop. He helped Lovino out a few years ago when we had a supposed burglary. It turned out to be just a drunk throwing a brick into our shop window at night, but Arthur was very helpful. They've been friends ever since."_

"You haven't come to learn CPR in weeks, Vargas."

"Shut the fuck up, I've been busy. By the way, this is Antonio."

"Oh, this is the famous Antonio! How do you do?"

"_Arthur always buys chocolates for Francis. Yes, our competitor Francis. Nobody's quite sure why. I think espionage. Francis and Arthur are sort of a thing, you see. Lovino doesn't care, though."_

"I'm going to be needing the usual for Francis."

"He still hasn't slept with you, has he?"

"He's not as much of a slut as we think he is."

"Poor you."

…

…

…

"_Alfred pops in occasionally. They used to date, he and Lovino. But they're friends now. Or something like it."_

Jealousy wasn't the right word. Antonio was very unsettled, that was all. He didn't like how Alfred said hello to him and Lovino, proceeding to ask for a super sweet chocolate. Honestly, Antonio felt like he was invading Lovino's life. He felt like an unwanted house guest.

And the feeling just got worse.

…

…

…

"_Another one of our regulars is Emma. Although…she doesn't come just for the chocolate."_

Antonio honestly had to look away as Lovino and Emma almost made out over the counter. He felt so incredibly awkward and unwanted right now, it wasn't even funny. Emma had initially been polite and said hello to him, but now both she and Lovino were too…involved with other things…to notice him quietly slip away, back into the kitchen. He needed to feel wanted right now, or that bad voice inside his head would be triggered awake.

* * *

-/-

* * *

This was jealousy, plain and simple and sickening. Lovino couldn't believe himself. He was right outside the florist's where Emma worked, and he could see her chatting happily along with a tall, dashing young man who could only be this mysterious 'Tim'.

Emma was always talking about him. _Tim's so funny, he almost inhaled a bee. Tim's so helpful, he took on half my shift today. Tim's so this, Tim's so that, _well, FUCK TIM. Actually, no, wrong choice of words. Don't fuck Tim, Emma. Please, for the love of god.

Lovino had lost one partner to another person. He wasn't willing to let history repeat itself. With Alfred, he'd been too relaxed. So perfectly confident that Kiku and Alfred were just 'friends', nothing weird about it. And then the next thing he knew, Alfred was telling him that 'this wasn't working out' and 'he'd fallen for somebody else'. Well, no. That wasn't going to happen again, no fucking way.

Lovino's hands curled up tightly as he almost marched into the florist's place. Emma was talking loudly and emphatically, her hands flying about, with Tim giving her these all-too-good-looking half-smiles. No. Just…no. No.

When Lovino entered, Emma abruptly stopped talking, mostly out of obvious surprise. And when her eyes met his, she was grinning ear to ear. "Oh, _Lovi_! Hi! I was just talking about you!"

At least she was happy to see him—wait, what?

"Talking about me?" Lovino asked quietly, looking between Emma and Tim.

"Yeah, I was telling Tim that hilarious story about how you almost blew up my kitchen that one time. Remember how funny that was? It still amazes me how absent-minded you'd been that day! Putting a metal bowl in the microwave." Emma laughed loudly, shaking her head.

Lovino narrowed his eyes. "I had a migraine that day, Emma. I wasn't thinking straight."

Emma's giggles subsided as she tilted her head and looked at him with a confused frown. "You had a migraine? Oh. Oh, right! Sorry. I totally forgot."

"Yeah." Lovino shot Tim a look which he hoped was full of hatred, before letting his eyes soften as they went back to his girlfriend. "Do you want to go out for a walk?"

"It's the middle of a work day, though," Tim interjected quietly.

"Thank you, Tim, she knows that," Lovino replied smoothly.

Emma blinked, looking at Lovino. She didn't seem impressed. She had an eyebrow raised. "Tim's right, though," Emma replied after a moment of uncomfortable quiet. "I've been vanishing in the middle of work too often. The boss gets mad."

At first, Lovino thought he'd misheard her. But no, there was no mistaking that deadpan, cold, distant expression of studied neutrality. Shit, no. This was the last thing he wanted. For her to be mad at him and then run to _Tim's _arms instead. No, no, no. Lovino had to—he had to figure out something. Fast.

On his lips, Lovino plastered on the warmest, calmest, loveliest smile he'd ever mustered. "Of course, _amore_," he stretched out the accent practically into the next galaxy, making sure he sounded very Italian and very sexy. And then he sauntered up to her, leaned over the counter, and pulled her into a deep, long, passionate kiss.

He was quietly relieved when she kissed back.

And when he let her go, Emma's face was a bright flush and she stuttered and giggled like a teenage girl.

Lovino winked at her on his way out. "See you tonight."

"Y-yeah," she stammered, but he was already gone. A suave playboy. Perfect.

That ought to do it.

…Either he'd kissed her so well that she'd never forget it, or he'd turned her on and then left her with a hot tall guy.

Oh god.

* * *

It was later that night. Much later. Lovino had a cup of coffee, a piece of paper, along with and old recipe book sitting in front of him. And he just felt very…unhappy. Tired. Angry. And deflated. Everything was playing in his mind. Emma. The stupid praline recipe.

…And that basically constituted his whole world right now. And at the moment, it felt like his sense of normalcy was crumbling. He'd texted Emma earlier in the evening. She hadn't replied. Although her 'Last Seen' showed that she _had _been online and she _could _have responded. She was ignoring him. Why? Hadn't they patched things up with that wonderful kiss? Was she…texting Tim instead?

As for this recipe. Well, frankly, Lovino had no idea what to do with it. It wasn't what he'd wanted in his head. He couldn't make it. He wouldn't make it. No, he needed to focus on _changing it_, improving it so that it would be what he'd dreamed of. So that it could crush Francis and all the other participants. So that Lovino and Theobroma Cacao could win.

He couldn't disappoint his grandfather. Or himself. He couldn't do that. He wouldn't allow himself to.

Briefly, Lovino's eyes flickered to Antonio's room door. Though it was shut, he could hear the other man's soft whimpering. He could hear Antonio thrashing about, caught in another nightmare. He had a lot of nightmares, Lovino noticed. And through the paper-thin walls and doors of this apartment, Lovino could often hear him. They always involved a person called Roderich.

The clock ticked away. Lovino's mind drifted. Perhaps sleep would be nice. He wasn't being productive right now, anyway. Sleep would be…wonderful, actually. But he felt so guilty for wanting it. Because there was work to do, there were expectations Lovino had to live up to. Right now, however, he was falling short.

In Antonio's room, there was finally silence. And then the door opened slowly. Antonio had put on a bit more weight since he'd started living with Lovino. A good thing, definitely. He was still abnormally thin for his height. Lovino watched him rub the wetness from his eyes and blink in a daze at Lovino.

"Oh," Antonio said quietly. "You're awake?"

"I couldn't sleep."

"Neither could I," Antonio confessed after a moment.

"Nightmares?"

Antonio didn't reply. He crossed the living room and sat opposite Lovino.

"What were you dreaming about?" Lovino pressed.

"…Drowning, I guess," Antonio responded after a moment. He averted his gaze and played with his thumbs.

So Lovino changed the subject. "How was your first week working for me?"

It was nice when Antonio's eyes brightened. He looked up and smiled. "So much fun. Ivan has been teaching me all the intricacies of all the steps of chocolate making. I'm still on the roasting stage, but Ivan thinks I'll soon be good enough to be able to do it on my own!"

"That's good," Lovino replied with a tiny, barely-there sort of smile. "You'll have to get started on sales, too. Maybe next week, let's see. Selling chocolate is a lot harder than you think it is. Luxury chocolate like ours is rarely something people buy all the time. You'll have to learn off by-heart each and every single thing we make, and its price. And you'll have to learn the packaging, too. It's…well, hard work."

"I'm not afraid of hard work. Speaking of which," Antonio quickly said, "I was working on the website. For your shop?"

"Yeah? And?"

"I think it looks pretty neat! I'll show you tomorrow!" Antonio's eyes crinkled in happiness.

"Antonio," Lovino said after a long moment. A website designer? How did someone like that end up homeless? Who was Roderich? And what about Antonio having known musicians? What about the non-boyfriend, and all of those music-related terms he'd just prattled on about the other day? How the hell did it even add up? "What happened to you?"

Antonio stared back at Lovino, all traces of the smile gone. "…So much, Lovino," he responded finally, after a prolonged silence.

"Well, we've got all night."

The other man chuckled softly, looking away. "I'll tell you some other time, maybe. I'm quite tired right now."

Antonio went back to his room after that. And the silence filled Lovino's head again. The ticking of the clock and the creak of the floorboards, the beating of his own heart, the rustle of the trees outside, the long lonely night.

And Lovino let his mind drift once more...

* * *

**A/N: This chapter is slightly shorter than the others, but I am so happy with it xD There were some scenes I wanted to include, but didn't. I guess I was just pleased with the way it ended right now. **

**I don't know when the next update will be, honestly. I've got my final exams coming up in the next couple of weeks, and there's still a bit of work I've got to finish before I can even start studying. Hopefully, if I have the time, I'll try to write something. But don't put your money on it. **

**Anyway, thank you for reading! Please review! And oh, if you're looking for an antsy Spamano (warnings for self-harm), please do check out my new two-shot, **_**Believers in Blind Faith**_**. Hopefully I can update and finish that one in the next couple of days xD**

**Bye! See you soon!**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Songs mentioned in this chapter are—**

_**I'm Still Here **_**by Vertical Horizon**

_**Bailamos **_**by Enrique Iglesias**

_**Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da **_**by the Beatles**

_**French Perfume **_**by Great Big Sea**

* * *

In the weeks that followed, Lovino was getting more and more frustrated. With. Everything. First on the list was, undoubtedly, Emma. He didn't know what to do. She and this Tim character seemed to be enjoying themselves way too much, even if they did just hang out at work. He knew he was getting obsessively jealous, but he couldn't help thinking about how she was probably texting him or chatting with him or actually having sex with him, only because Emma was a few minutes late in picking up the phone or answering a message. And she'd cancelled a date or two a couple of times because 'her grandmother was ill'. Hah. Yeah, right. Sure.

Everything about her was starting to irritate him, as a matter of fact. From her face to her voice to her hair, the way she dressed, her beautiful laugh. He no longer wanted to kiss her when she gave him that smile, he no longer wanted to buy her a necklace or gift her a box of chocolates. No, he just kept thinking, _I bet you're fucking Tim. _

And yet, in the eternal chaos that was his mind, Lovino also felt affection for her that bordered on desperation. He _needed _her to love him. And so he would send her little presents and chocolates and flowers—even though she, incidentally, worked in a florist's—he surprised her at night and kissed her long and slow, the way he knew she liked it.

So, sure, if _occasionally _he snapped at Tim, and if _occasionally _he grabbed Tim's collar and shoved him against the wall…

That was…excusable, right?

Apparently not.

Emma had to come between them, just as Tim readied himself to punch back. "Stop it!" she cried, shoving Lovino in one corner and shoving Tim in the other. "You're acting like a _child_!" Emma's full wrath turned on Lovino, eyes blazing. "You've been acting like such a possessive little _brat_. I'm not your property!"

"Tell me the truth! You like him, don't you?" Lovino shouted back.

Emma was silent for a full minute. Her eyes flicked to Tim for a moment, before she looked back at Lovino. Her voice was very, very quiet. "Take a walk."

"What?!"

"Go. Get some air. I'm not having this argument with you."

Lovino narrowed his eyes. He knew he'd very dearly regret what he said next. "Fine. Fuck you. Or better yet, let _Tim _do that." And then he turned on the balls of his feet and marched out, absolutely seething.

As he turned around the corner, he slumped against the wall of a building and buried his head in his hands. Nothing. He could do nothing right. The perfect world he'd built around himself was starting to crumble—again—and this time, his utter failure at being a chocolatier just made things worse. With Alfred, he'd had some perspective. At least he'd had his precious job to fall back on. Now, there wasn't even that.

He hadn't yet made that chocolate for the competition. Was he ever going to? Yesterday, Lovino had received an email from the guys at the Dufour Chocolate Contest. The official dates had been released. It was happening on the twentieth of January, in the city. It was already August. _How _was he going to do this?

Perhaps the only thing Lovino could cushion himself with was that at least _Theobroma Cacao _wasn't short-staffed anymore. Antonio had picked up the art of making chocolate. Yes, of course he was still learning. But he knew the basics, he was starting to understanding the details, and with enough practice, he'd be a professional in no time.

Oh yes, Lovino would have to get him started on sales, too, right?

Oh god. Why was everything happening at the same time? He could barely breathe.

* * *

"It's always good to know what people's favourites are," Feli explained cheerfully as she made Antonio study the assortment of chocolates in the glass case. "With regulars, it's easy. Vash and Erika both love milk chocolate. Arthur will buy all sorts of things for Francis, so you can never say with him. Emma, she loves our pralines. Well, to be fair, our pralines are our _best _product. We've got lots of varieties, as you know, and Emma will always pick a Mystery Box. She loves those."

"Mystery Box?" Antonio asked, raising an eyebrow. He'd heard of this 'Mystery Box' thing. It was the most expensive kind of packaging.

"Yes," Feli nodded her head sagely. "It's popular at parties and stuff, and sometimes in waiting rooms. Basically, we put a random assortment of our pralines—absolutely _any flavour_—and the customer has no idea which one they're eating. They have to guess the flavour! Obviously we have to print a warning on our Mystery Boxes. _Contains nuts a_nd that sort of thing. Don't want to kill anyone, do we? Especially since people aren't going to know what they're eating. It's best to put the warning for all the chocolates."

"Right." Antonio smiled. "Have you watched _Forrest Gump_?"

Felicia laughed. "I love that movie. _Life is like a box of chocolates, you never know what you get_. That quote actually what inspired the product design of the Mystery Box."

She went on to explain how things were priced, how Antonio was to put the chocolate in their packaging, all of that. It was pretty standard. And selling the chocolate was easy enough. Antonio knew how to sell things. Antonio knew how to run his own business, actually. He'd been doing it for, oh, years.

Like that website he'd designed for _Theobroma Cacao_. He'd taken a special class on how to do that. He knew that a good website, particularly in today's social media age, was the key to a successful business. Now, a customer could place an order for chocolate online, after looking at their huge menu. The _About Us _page was tastefully designed to tell the story of Grandpa Vargas, for whom chocolate had been an unrealised dream, and the efforts of Lovino and Felicia to bring that dream to life. And then he'd put short profiles of Feli and Lovino, with pictures. And then there was an _Achievements _page (which was fairly long, Antonio had noted with pride), and a _Do Business with Us! _page where other companies could get in touch with The Shop. It was all very organised, very well-equipped.

"I love that quote, though," Feli said in a rather dreamy voice as she discreetly popped a chocolate into her mouth. Lovino was in the kitchen with Ivan, working. "Life is like a box of chocolates, you never know what you get. It's beautiful. And so true. Life is unexpected! You think you're going in one direction, you think you know the outcome, and then suddenly something happens that changes everything. And though change can be, well, shocking at first, you sometimes learn that it was for the best. That in fact, this new, unexpected direction is _sweeter_—pun intended, of course, because, you know, it's _chocolate_!" and she giggled.

Antonio just stared. "Yeah, but sometimes life's random turns can be really hard." He wasn't about to make Roderich's death into some unfortunate life-changing event. It wasn't that trivial.

"That's true." Feli nodded, eyes sliding away, looking a little sad. "But it's not like we can control our lives. Not really. We're constantly wanting for things to be in absolutes. Do you know that? Like—_I'm going to get married, have a kid, be happy. _Full stop. But it's never full stop, is it? Hey, no. More often than not, it goes a little like this: _I'm going to get married and have a kid. Then there might be some marital discord and financial trouble. The kid might get into bad influences. Or get bullied. My spouse might leave me. Or perhaps because of our hardships, we'll come even closer as a family_. My point is, who knows? Who knows what's going to happen? Beyond a point, it's silly to plan our lives out completely. Isn't that so?"

Felicia looked at Antonio as though she'd just baited him. He blinked, opening his mouth to argue.

"You two should quit having philosophical discussions and get to work," Lovino snapped dryly, making Feli and Antonio jump. He looked more tired and sleepless than ever, his skin actually tinted grey, eyes bloodshot. He still wore his apron and cap from the kitchen, but somehow managed to look mildly threatening despite the funny attire.

"Sorry," Feli said with a chuckle, quickly swallowing the remainder of the chocolate in her mouth. Lovino glared at her. "Sorry," Feli said again.

Next, Lovino turned his anger on Antonio. He didn't actually say anything, although the guilt came rushing back to Antonio like a hurricane. God, he was so, so, so _sorry _about everything he did wrong all the time.

Finally, Lovino looked away. "Just get to work," he muttered before walking back into the kitchen again.

* * *

**Lovino: Arthur.**

_Arthur: Lovino._

**Lovino: You're a pretty senior cop, right?**

_Arthur: If by "pretty senior" you mean I'm pretty senior to Alfred, then yes._

_Arthur: Although to be fair, a gnat with the right uniform could be more senior to Alfred._

_Arthur: Should I feel bad that I'm trash-talking my partner in this way?_

**Lovino: Can you do me a favour?**

**Lovino: I can't ask Alfred. **

**Lovino: I don't want to give him the satisfaction.**

_Arthur: Uh…it depends. What do you want?_

**Lovino: Can you put a detail on Emma?**

_Arthur: "Put a detail". Well, well, Lovino. I'm not sure whether to call you out on your obsession with TV crime shows, or name you as a creepy pervert who ought to be arrested._

**Lovino: Calm down, will you?**

**Lovino: I just thinks she cheating on me. **

**Lovino: That, or maybe 'Tim from work' has designs on her and is trying to steal her.**

**Lovino: Either way, I need her to be watched.**

_Arthur: This isn't funny, Lovino. _

_Arthur: You sound like a stalker right now. _

_Arthur: And you have some serious jealousy and trust issues._

_Arthur: And to think you could ask a POLICE OFFICER to stalk an innocent woman just because you think she's cheating on you…_

_Arthur: Never mind that it's completely illegal for me to do that._

_Arthur: What's wrong with you?!_

**Lovino: …God, you're right.**

**Lovino: Sorry. **

**Lovino: I hate myself right now.**

**Lovino: I'm an asshole, aren't I?**

_Arthur: A bit, yes._

**Lovino: Sorry. Again.**

_Arthur: Forgiven._

_Arthur: Although maybe you should have an upfront conversation with her._

_Arthur: I'm sorry you're having relationship troubles._

**Lovino: So am I. **

**Lovino: Thanks for knocking some sense into me.**

_Arthur: That's my job. With you, with Alfred, with Francis. Knocking sense into people._

**Lovino: Yeah, yeah, yeah.**

* * *

9.00 PM, Tuesday

* * *

_Arthur: Get your arse down to the Bluebell Pub. NOW._

**Lovino: I'm at work. **

_Arthur: Huh? Isn't it past closing time?_

**Lovino: I stayed back. **

_Arthur: Look, I don't even care. You need to come here. NOW. NOW. NOW._

_Arthur: Look!_

_Arthur: *Attached Video Clip*_

**Lovino: Oh holy shit.**

* * *

8.20 PM, that same Tuesday

* * *

Antonio was bored. Felicia and Ivan had both left. Technically, business hours had ended. Feli had a date with Ludwig, Ivan had to go home to make dinner, and Antonio was stuck in the Shop, with Lovino. Now usually, he didn't mind. He loved talking to Lovino. It was like digging for gold and finding oil instead. Lovino was just interesting that way.

But right now, Lovino was in a terribly surly mood. He was in the kitchen, measuring different liquids, making notes and muttering to himself. Whenever asked, he'd say, "I'm working on my praline recipe," and that was that. Although after the third time Antonio asked, Lovino added, "Look, you don't have to stay here. I'm not sure why you insisted on keeping me company in the first place. You're off the clock. Go home."

"Aw, but I don't want to abandon you."

Lovino lowered the measuring cup and placed Antonio under a level stare. "You can't abandon me _in my own business establishment_, you know. Besides, you're bored, and you're starting to annoy me. Go home. Or go for a walk. Or something. I work best alone, anyway."

A walk sounded great, actually. As it happened, Antonio had been here for about two months now, maybe more, and he hadn't actually seen the town. He only knew this neighbourhood. He hadn't even walked up the street, to where Francis Bonnefoy's _Le Chocolat _was. Antonio had been too disoriented, too consumed with his own self-hate.

But lately, he'd been feeling something else. Something more positive.

It didn't help shut up the Roderich inside his head, but it made the non-Roderich moments more bearable.

Antonio was feeling, for the first time in a very long time, a sustained sense of what could (vaguely) be called 'happiness'. It came and it went, but it was starting to settle under Antonio's skin, like something soft and comforting and warm.

"Are you sure you don't mind?" Antonio asked.

"No, please." Lovino rolled his eyes and gestured to the kitchen door. "Go have fun. Enjoy your life. Blah-blah-blah. I need to work on this."

Antonio blinked. "…Okay…if you insist…"

"I do."

"…Okay…"

The town was the quiet, respectable sort. Lots of quaint little residential places. There was that river, which Antonio steered clear off. He didn't trust his mind. Not one bit. In his spare time, Antonio found himself obsessing over it. From careful questioning of Ivan, he learnt that the river's current was even sharper the further away from the town it went. It was quieter there, a good place for dates, apparently. Lots of trees, little by means of civilisation, and a strong gushing water flow. Ideal to drown in.

Antonio shook his head, as though physically trying to throw the dangerous thoughts from his mind. He briskly walked towards where all the shops and restaurants were. Many of them lined the river, he sought out the ones away from the water. He could still hear it splashing, but not seeing it really helped.

That was when he stumbled upon a quiet little establishment with tinted blue windows and glowing yellow light peeking through them. In old, rustic style, the wooden name plaque read _Bluebell Pub_. It looked pretty cute, at least from the outside. It didn't appear as creepy and derelict as the old Chinese restaurant beside it, that was for sure.

Antonio gently pushed open the old-style brown door with glass windows (sort of like _Theobroma Cacao_, actually), and stepped into it.

There were exactly seven customers. There were round tables with chairs, a bar with a bored-looking man behind it, wiping glasses, old black-and-white photographs of iconic musicians on the walls, and for some reason, on one corner of the room, a small stage.

Antonio's eyes gravitated to it instantly. It wasn't very large at all. It could barely accommodate the drum set, the keyboard and the acoustic guitar. It didn't quite gel with the aesthetics of the pub, but it somehow gave off the image of being the heart and soul of the place.

His legs took him to the musical instruments almost of their own accord.

"Beauty, eh?"

Antonio jumped slightly. The stage was right next to the bar, and the barman was giving him a proud smile.

"Yeah. Lovely."

"Used to be, we had musicians come play here every Saturday. Y'know, amateur musicians. So we kept this all up for them. But that trickle is thinning these days."

Antonio's hands reached out for the guitar. "That's a shame." His fingers clasped around it and he lifted off the ground, almost with reverence.

"You play?"

"Hmm?" Antonio's eyes flickered away from the musical instruments for one painful second, meeting the barman. He didn't want to make conversation. He wanted to admire these beautiful things. "A bit. I'm an amateur too, though."

The barman grinned. "Want to give this a go?"

Antonio raised an eyebrow. "Me? Now? Oh gosh, no. I'm out of practice."

The barman chuckled. "Ah, okay. But shall I get you something to drink?"

Antonio shrugged. "A beer?" he asked, the first thing that came to his mind.

"Gotcha."

His attention went back to the guitar. He put the strap around his neck. When he looked inside the sound hole, he found a blue guitar pick. Experimentally, and completely unexpectedly, he ran the pick through its steel strings.

Huh. No, this would need a bit of tuning.

He turned the pegs around a bit, strumming to see if he liked the result. And when Antonio finally found a combination he liked, he started to play. It was a song he'd heard on the radio once, and instantly liked for the music. Roderich had always preferred classical stuff, but Antonio liked songs like this.

This felt so—

He stopped only after a few seconds.

Wow, had he just—had he just—_played a guitar_? After _so long_?

Wow, wow, wow wowowowow this was so cool this was incredible oh god oh god oh god—

"Hey, why did you stop?"

Antonio's head jerked up so suddenly that it almost collided with the other guy's. The man was standing very close to him, looking at him with blue eyes widened in curiosity and flowing blonde hair that had _certainly _seen some salon work.

Antonio blinked.

"You're really good," the man said with a nod and a smile, offering his hand to shake. "You're new here, aren't you? I haven't seen you around. My name is Francis. Pleasure to meet you."

Antonio stared at Francis, then at his palm, then back at his face. Then slowly, they shook hands. "I'm Antonio Carriedo. Um, are you Francis Bonnefoy, by any chance?"

Francis's eyes lit up with recognition for a moment. "Yes, yes I am. And are you Antonio, Lovino's new employee? The one with the dramatic near-drowning experience?"

Antonio chuckled. "Guilty as charged."

The other man laughed too. "Arthur Kirkland told me about you."

"You and Lovino are competitors?"

"Archenemies," Francis chortled.

Francis didn't seem evil. Not by any stretch of imagination.

"But it's friendly competition, at least from my side," Francis went on. "It's good fun. Keeps us on our toes, you know?"

"You aren't going to try and get _information _out of me then, are you?" Antonio laughed.

"Oh, good heavens, no. It's too much trouble. Easier just to be a better chocolatier than Lovino Vargas." Francis grinned a smile that would make all women and most of the men drop their pants. "As I was saying, why did you stop playing? You were very good! I don't believe I've heard that song before. Can you sing, too?"

Antonio shrugged. "I was in a band in college, but that was pretty amateur stuff."

"It's more experience than I've had!" Francis reached out and patted Antonio's shoulders. "Come now, play us a song!"

"What, seriously?"

"Very seriously! There's no good entertainment around here! And it's not like we're expecting any Grammy Award-winning music anyway." Francis laughed, but then paused and gave Antonio a guilty smile. "Sorry, that sounded mean."

"No, it's a relief." Antonio's eyes went to the body of the guitar. "Are you sure?"

"Do it." Francis nodded vigorously.

"Hmm…well—"

"Gilbert!" Francis suddenly called out, looking behind Antonio to where a figure stepped out of the men's room. An albino by the looks of it. Feli had told Antonio about him too. Ludwig's older brother, Francis's business partner. Gilbert looked up curiously and bounded up to where Antonio and Francis were.

"What did I miss?" Gilbert asked.

"Gilbert, this is Antonio. _Lovino's _Antonio."

Gilbert's red eyes went wide. "Oh, right! You know cute little Feli, I take it?" He wrenched Antonio's hand away from the guitar and shook it with force. "Nice to meet you. I'm Gilbert Beilschmidt, the Awesomer of the two Beilschmidt brothers." And a laugh.

"Hi—"

"Antonio seems to be good at the guitar. I was just asking him to play something. He needed a bit of convincing."

Gilbert grinned. "You are? That's so cool. Do it, man."

"_Oui_!"

Antonio laughed. "Okay, okay. One song. And fair warning, I might suck."

"Awesome! I love live music!" Gilbert almost shouted. Antonio grinned slightly as he watched him and Francis go over to their table, where Antonio also noticed Arthur (still in his police uniform) sitting there, enjoying a beer.

The barman had set out Antonio's beer on the counter too, but he nodded and gave Antonio a thumbs up to show that it was okay, the drink could wait.

Antonio looked down at the guitar before his eyes went back to the meagre audience. "Hi, everyone," he started in a small voice. "My name's Antonio. People call me Toni. And I've just been _coerced_—" he made sure to smile at Francis and Gilbert, who both raised their drinks to Antonio with huge grins on their faces—"into playing something. I hope you like it. I heard this on the radio a while ago. It's called _I'm Still Here _by Vertical Horizon."

The pick between his hands ran across the guitar's strings in slow, experimental ways before he caught the tune. If there was one thing Antonio truly understood, it was music. Nothing gave him more pleasure in knowing how the right person playing the right instrument in the right way could create something so universal and so beautiful. Antonio was no expert, he never had been. But he understood musical instruments.

His voice was shaky and awkward at first, from lack of practice. But he remembered the words, making sure to pronounce them properly, making sure they got exactly the sort of attention they deserved.

This felt right.

Antonio felt right.

This felt good. It felt good and right and wonderful. He belonged to this moment.

And when the song ended, he was met with a resounding silence and then a cascade of applause. Antonio grinned. "Liked it?"

"ENCORE!" Francis yelled. "ENCORE! Amateur, my derrière! Sing another one!"

"Another one?" Antonio said through a giggle. "You guys want another one?" He had stage presence. He'd always known that. He knew how to make crowds love him. He'd only ever played in college, but he knew what he was doing. When he got only more cheers, he smirked. It was good to smirk like this. He felt powerful and in control. "There's this one song that comes to mind. But I need someone on the drums. Anyone know how to play the drums?"

Gilbert raised a hand and waved it around in the air wildly. "I do!"

"No, you don't!" Arthur shot him down.

"Hey!" Gilbert yelled back, "I may not be a pro, but if Toni shows me the beat, I can totally do it."

Antonio grinned. "Yeah, I can show you the beat!"

"I want to do something too," Francis whined.

Antonio bit the inside of his cheek. "Hmm. Okay, I have an idea. Gilbert," he gestured to the man, who bounded out of his chair and ran up to the stage. "Okay, this is the beat." And Antonio sat behind the drum set and played something. He knew the basics of most instruments, and he knew how to get new users comfortable with them. He did it a couple of times, slowly at first and then quicker. "Do you understand?"

"I think so." Gilbert nodded.

"Okay, try it."

It took a few minutes, but Gilbert managed to get the hang of it.

"Cool! Good job!" Antonio opened his palm fully. "This means start playing." And then he closed his fist. "This means stop. Okay?"

"Okay. Gotcha."

Antonio then looked at Francis. "And you can sing along with me?"

"How about I play the piano?" Francis asked, standing up and approaching the stage.

Antonio smiled. "_Keyboard_, not piano. This song doesn't need that. But next time, sure!"

"What song is this, anyway?" Francis asked, standing beside Antonio.

"Have you heard _Bailamos_? It's by Enrique?"

"Oh! Yes, of course. Who hasn't heard that? I can't sing the Spanish, though."

"Leave it to me."

Antonio smirked at the audience again, before he approached the mic and started to strum.

* * *

Half an hour later, Arthur was witness to a spectacle. The _Bluebell Pub _had never seen so many people in ages. People started streaming in as they walked past, just to see what all the din was about. Now, all the tables were taken and a good number of the audience was standing. There were bottles of alcohol and glasses everywhere, with people shouting and cheering.

And then there were _those three._

"BAILAMOOOOOS! LET THE RYTHYM TAKE YOU OVER!"

"BAILAMOOOOOS!"

"_TE QUIERO MI AMOR_!"

They'd sung that song three times already, interspersed with bits of something else and long pauses while Antonio, Francis and Gilbert drowned themselves in vodka shots. Arthur watched in deep amusement as Antonio was standing _on the bar counter _playing his guitar, with Gilbert and Francis yelling into the mic onstage, drums and keyboard completely abandoned. It was barely in tune, but somehow very catchy.

Arthur saw a light on his cell phone and smirked at Lovino's message.

_Lovino: Oh holy shit._

_Lovino: IS THAT ANTONIO? _

_Lovino: DANCING ON A BAR COUNTER?_

**Arthur: I told you, get your arse here, NOW. **

**Arthur: You don't want to miss this.**

**Arthur: It's incredible.**

_Lovino: On my way._

And when, ten minutes later, Lovino arrived, huffing and puffing, he had to fight his way through thick crowds to reach Arthur. Antonio, Francis and Gilbert didn't notice him, now too busy doing a quicker rendition of Beatles' _Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da_.

Lovino sat next to Arthur, watching the show with unabashed amazement. "Well, he's good," Lovino conceded after a moment. He had to shout over the noise to be heard.

"Did you know he was some sort of music genius?" Arthur shouted back.

"What?"

"Antonio can play the guitar well, but he also knows how to use the drums and the keyboard. Did you know that?"

"No way!"

"Yeah! He was teaching Francis and Gilbert how to do it!"

"Fuck!"

"Yeah!"

"AND NOW," Francis suddenly shouted into the mic, making the room quiet down. Antonio couldn't stop laughing as he paused his guitar playing to watch the other man. "I DEDICATE THIS SONG TO _MON AMOUR_, ARTHUR!"

"What the bloody—" Arthur began, interrupted by Lovino's snickering.

"DO IT LIKE WE PLANNED IT, GILBERT!"

Arthur didn't have a moment to wonder how they could have planned anything, considering that the whole performance was one extraordinary, overblown comic mess. The drums started up without warning, right along with Antonio's guitar, with him playing at a speed and versatility which one would definitely consider professional.

"IT'S OF A BOLD YOUNG SAILOR—"

"FROM FORTUNE HE DID SAIL—"

"HE RODE THE WAVES FROM ST. PIERRE—"

"AND NEVER SAW THE JAIL—"

What the hell was this about now? Arthur had never heard this song, but it did not sound romantic.

"HE FILLED HER UP WITH CONTRABAND—"

"Oh," Lovino said with quiet understanding while those three hooligans continued to sing. "It's about a pirate."

"What the bloody hell," Arthur muttered darkly.

"You have pirate fantasies or something?"

"That's personal, so shut it."

"I'm taking that as a yes."

"YOU CAN STILL SEE THE SIGHT ON A WINTER'S NIGHT—"

"OF HIS WAKE IN THE LIGHT OF THE MOON—"

"WHEN THE WIND TURNS RIGHT AND YOU DON'T TAKE FRIGHT—"

"YOU CAN SMELL THAT FRENCH PERFUME!"

"_What_?" Arthur cried, choking on his beer.

Beside him, Lovino was rubbing his eyes. "I need to go. I was busy working."

"You're not going to sit for this?!" Arthur asked him.

"No, it's giving me a headache." Lovino's gaze drifted to Antonio, wildly playing the guitar. "Make sure he doesn't overexert himself, please. He's still recovering."

"It's been weeks since the pneumonia."

"Yeah, but he still tires easily."

Arthur smirked. "I find your protectiveness amusing."

"Oh, shut the fuck up."

* * *

It was twenty minutes later that Antonio had to stop, laughing as he called out to the room, "Thank you, thank you so much! You've been a great audience! But my throat _really _hurts now, so I have to stop. But thanks! I love you!"

All of this, through chants of 'Toni! Toni! Toni!' As Antonio finally stepped off the bar counter, Gilbert and Francis accosted him.

"Oh no, where are _you _going?" Gilbert asked loudly. To the bartender, he said, "Give this guy a drink!"

"Let's do more shots!" Francis cried out.

"Oh yeah, great idea. We'll do shots instead!"

* * *

_Arthur: It pains me little to have inform you that I can no longer look after Antonio._

**Lovino: Huh?**

_Arthur: Firstly, he is a grown man, so I'm not going to bother being his "mommy". Secondly, I need to go home. Tomorrow is a working day._

_Arthur: Thirdly and most importantly, Gilbert and Francis dragged him off to check out some more pubs and possibly to bring chaos and annihilation to the planet. _

**Lovino: He's out drinking with Gilbert and Francis?**

_Arthur: Yes._

**Lovino: Oh god.**

_Arthur: My sentiments exactly._

* * *

2.37 AM, Wednesday

* * *

Lovino was startled awake with the dull thud of someone trying to kick the door open. He'd fallen asleep at the dining table, his head resting on that old fat chocolate recipe book. Squinting through his exhaustion, he made out the tell-tale signs of someone trying and failing to turn the key in the lock.

What time was it? He reached out for his phone and narrowed his eyes. Well, it was _late_. Or early, depending on how he looked at it. Lovino rubbed his face, trying to wake himself up, and in that time, Antonio managed to open the door with his key and tumble into the apartment, giggling hysterically.

There was a moment when the two men silently gaped at each other, and then Antonio's face split into the largest, happiest grin. Arms open, he dashed towards a stunned Lovino, pulling the smaller man into a tight hug. "Loooooooovi, hello!"

"Hey! What the—wait, Lovi? My name's—Antonio!" Lovino had to stand and push Antonio off him, who stumbled but didn't fall, giggling all the way. "Do you know what time it is?" Lovino thundered (or attempted to, because he was still very sleepy).

"It's party tiiime!" Antonio yelled back, throwing his arms in the air before his eyes suddenly narrowed in on Lovino. Without warning, Lovino found his hands clamped in Antonio's, with the other man wildly singing, "Dance with me, Lovi! Bailamooooos! Let the rhythm…somethingsomething—Bailamoooos!"

"Shut up, you'll wake the neighbours," Lovino hissed, wrenching his hands free from Antonio and trying to walk past the man. It didn't exactly work. Antonio tried to catch Lovino's wrist and spin him around. But somewhere in Lovino's sleep-addled mind and Antonio's alcohol-drenched one, they coordinated incorrectly, and managed to topple spectacularly onto the couch, with Antonio's full weight on Lovino, their faces almost touching.

And from this (lack of) distance, Lovino could see Antonio's green eyes wide and happy and so very drunk and feel Antonio's breath on his lips and if he could raise his head just oh-so-slightly, then they'd bridge the gap and—

There was an electronic noise and colour and movement in the corner of Lovino's eyes, and suddenly, Antonio's weight shifted off him. Lovino had fallen on the TV remote, and now, Antonio watched in absolute wonder at the late-night movie.

"It's _Pretty Woman_!" Antonio squealed. "I love this movie!"

"No," Lovino started, trying to make his voice sound as firm as he could. He couldn't believe he'd just come so close to—kissing? Kissing, right?—Antonio. God, him this tired and Antonio this drunk was not a good combination. His face was still warm and Lovino's stomach was filled with an uncomfortable swooping sensation. "It's late, it's a working day tomorrow, so you better sleep. I'm not going easy on you when you wake up with a hangover."

"But it's the shopping scene!" Antonio cried, eyes wide in desperation. "I love it! When Richard Gere buys all those pretty dresses for Julia Roberts! It's my favourite part!"

"I don't care—"

"Please Lovi, pleaaaaseeee! Watch it with me!" Antonio patted the space next to him, indicating that Lovino should scoot over and come as physically close to him as possible. And while doing so, Antonio opened out the blanket Lovino always kept by the sofa, draping it over his shoulders. "Come on! It's the shopping scene!"

Lovino pressed the bridge of his nose. He couldn't believe this. "Fine. _Ten minutes_. Then we'll go to sleep."

"Yay! Great! You're so cool!"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever."

* * *

Something was very soft. Very warm. It was comfortable. Yeah, _quite _comfortable, in fact. The sort of cosy feeling that made Lovino want to wriggle his toes and shift around a bit and—mm, except for that ache in his neck, this was pleasant. There was a hand around his shoulders, holding him protectively and firmly. Emma, probably. Sweet, lovely Emma. When had she come over? Lovino couldn't remem—wait. She hadn't come over, had she? So then who—?

His eyes snapped open.

It was too bright. The living room was too bright. Fat shafts of sunlight streamed in through the large window. The TV was on, playing a car advert. Lovino stared at it blankly. Why was the TV on? And why was he on the—

Suddenly, last night came rushing back, and he almost fell over in his haste to move. Antonio was fast asleep beside him. Lovino was leaning on his chest. Oh god. Right. Holy crap. They'd almost kissed. Or something. And the drinking and the singing and the guitar god Antonio had become. And they'd watched _Pretty Woman_. And they fell asleep on the couch.

And now it was bright, bright sunshine outside.

Fuck.

Lovino tore off the couch, this time actually losing his balance and falling with his knees hitting the ground. He blinked dumbly as he stood, hands flailing about for his mobile phone. It was on the dining table, so Lovino crossed the length of the room to get it.

It was half past noon.

Fuck.

He had a job. He had a job and he was _late_, oh no. Feli had texted him.

_Feli: Lovino where are u_

_Feli: Ivan says u hav been working late_

_Feli: ok get some sleep :3 _

_Feli: I luv u fratello_

_Feli: is toni coming to work_

_Feli: oh yea u must be sleeping so u cant answer these messages haha_

_Feli: sleep well Lovi :D_

Lovino put the phone down, ran up to Antonio and shouted, "You alcoholic bastard, GET UP!"

Antonio groaned, cringing in his sleep and burying his head into the blanket. "Lemme be."

"GET UP, GET UP, GET UP."

"Owwww, my head hurts."

"_I wonder why_," Lovino drawled, narrowing his eyes. "I don't even care if you have a hangover. Get the fuck up, we're late for work and it's all your fault."

Antonio looked like some sort of disembodied creature rising up from a bog. His movements were heavy, languid and sloppy. He pushed the blanket off himself and then rubbed his face. He opened his eyes, groaned, and closed them again. As Lovino shouted at him to get it together, Antonio tried to stand, swaying dangerously to the side between pleas of, "Lovi, please be quiet." When he finally stabilised his body and could stay upright without veering at odd angles, he managed to blink through the brightness of the day and mumble, "What time is it?"

"It's afternoon!" Lovino had finished brushing and changing, and was now wildly searching through the fridge for something quick to eat.

"What happened last night?" Antonio asked, his voice a little hoarse as he ambled over to the window and drew the curtains.

"You showed the entire town your musical talent, before promptly getting drunk out of your senses with Gilbert and Francis. And then you insisted on watching _Pretty Woman_ because of the shopping scene."

Antonio blinked like all of this was news to him, and then his face split into a stupid, dazed grin. "Sounds like I had a good time."

"Antonio, I swear to god, get your shit together or I will SPEAK LOUDLY UNTIL YOUR HEAD EXPLODES."

Antonio made a noise that sounded like something between a whine and a yelp before burying his head in his hands and scurrying off to his room.

Meanwhile, Lovino received another text message.

_Ludwig: Good afternoon, Lovino. I would like to let you know that I will be dropping in later today to discuss a small matter with you. It's nothing important, but I'd much rather do this in person than on the phone._

Lovino stared at that message for a long minute before punching in a response.

**Lovino: You dare not have made my sister pregnant.**

_Ludwig: Goodness, no. _

**Lovino: "Goodness, no"? Why, do you have something against pregnant women? YOUR MOTHER WAS A PREGNANT WOMAN ONCE.**

_Ludwig: That's not what I meant and you know it._

**Lovino: Would you abandon Felicia if you knocked her up? Huh? **

_Ludwig: There will be no knocking up and no abandoning._

**Lovino: So then what the fuck do you want to talk to me about?**

**Lovino: SHIT, ARE YOU GOING TO PROPOSE TO HER?**

**Lovino: NO. **

**Lovino: NO FUCKING WAY.**

_Ludwig: Lovino, please. I'm inviting you all out to dinner._

**Lovino: Huh?**

_Ludwig: Dinner. It's where people go to a restaurant, eat, chat, and have a good time._

_Ludwig: Maybe you have heard of the concept._

**Lovino: What the fuck are you on about.**

_Ludwig: Let's just do this in person._

_Ludwig: I'll be at Theobroma Cacao in forty-five minutes._

**Lovino: Make that an hour. **

**Lovino: I'm working right now.**

Lovino finished his glass of juice before typing, **It's a busy day. Not everyone has time to waste, like you do. **After that, he put his phone aside. Antonio stumbled out of his room a few minutes later, eyes bloodshot, face pale, fresh clothes crumpled. He stumbled over to where Lovino was sitting, dropped down on a chair and asked, "Can you do me a favour, please?"

Lovino raised an eyebrow. "Do you want some coffee?"

"Yes." Antonio smiled gratefully.

Lovino rolled his eyes as he got up, switching on the electric kettle and looking for a new cup. "Who asked you to go drinking on a working night?"

"I didn't intend to," Antonio complained softly.

"You just got drunk accidentally."

"Yeah."

"No, you know what," Lovino turned sharply, placing Antonio under a firm stare, "I blame Gilbert and Francis. Those two are demons from hell."

"They're quite fun," Antonio offered with a small grin.

"Whatever." Lovino turned back to the kettle. He didn't actually care if Antonio befriended those two. Lovino himself couldn't stand Gilbert or Francis, but it wasn't like they were enemies or something. Rivals, competitors, yes. But there wasn't any genuine hatred, no matter what Lovino said. Besides, Francis was many things, but he wasn't a cheat. He would actually try to extract information from Antonio or anyone else. This game that Lovino and Francis played, it was cutthroat, but it was fair.

Walking to the store was hell for Antonio, who was too hungover to be of any actual use. But he could deal with it. "I think I'm going to be sick," he moaned at one point.

"Please, the pavement is all yours."

"Loooovi…"

"You were asking for this. I don't care."

At the shop, Lovino left Antonio to deal with the customers. The kitchen smells and sounds would make his hangover worse, and Lovino didn't even want him near the chocolate in this state. The chocolate could get hurt. Feli and Ivan were giggling about something when Lovino entered, and they abruptly stopped when they saw him.

"What?" Lovino asked slowly, tying his apron and wearing his cap.

"Nothing, Lovi," Feli replied in a sugary voice. She batted her eyelids at him. "Luddy wants to talk to you. He's coming in a while."

"Yeah, I know." He narrowed his eyes at her. "What the hell is going on?"

"Nothing, I promise! Anyway, how are you feeling? Did you sleep well? I'm surprised you came to work. Between Ivan and I, we could have handled it. And Luddy could have come later, too."

Lovino let out a soft exhale. Now even his sister was keeping a secret. Oh joy. Antonio, Emma, and now Feli. Could he trust _anyone_? (Lovino knew he was being a bit dramatic about this. But then, he was a dramatic person anyway, so it didn't matter.)

They worked silently for a while, which was surprising and not unwelcome. Feli kept shooting knowing glances to Ivan when she thought her brother wasn't looking, but apart from that, everything was the same. Lovino was wiping the chocolate moulds. He never washed them with water, because that could potentially ruin them if they weren't dried properly. Besides, if he just wiped them well, they maintained a slight layer of grease that made the chocolates gleam.

His mind wasn't silent, though. It never was. He was thinking about Emma. He knew how fundamentally wrong it had been to ask Arthur to stalk her, but what else could he do? What if she was cheating on him with Tim? She hadn't texted him since the other day. He knew he owed her an apology for all those horrible things he'd said and done, but somehow, he also felt like she owed him one too.

But if they kept up this frigid silence, the relationship really was doomed.

Lovino's eyes wandered over to Feli, who was winnowing some beans. How did all of her relationships end up so well? Even the ones that hadn't worked out had ended rather cordially, on mutual terms. Lovino wanted a little bit of _that _luck.

He was interrupted when Antonio opened the kitchen door and peeked inside. "Ludwig's here." He'd met Ludwig once or twice, when he'd come to take Feli on a date. Lovino heard Feli and Ivan giggle again, but they remained where they were. "Go on, Lovi," Feli prodded.

"There better not be any unpleasant surprises in store," Lovino muttered, putting the moulds down and washing his hands. He wiped them dry on his apron before stepping out of the kitchen. Ludwig was there in his neat suit and tie. He was shifting his weight from one foot to the other, clearing his throat nervously and looking about. Was there a mild blush to his cheeks?

Antonio, for once, wasn't being chatty. He just sat there with his head balanced on his chin, rubbing his temple with the other hand. Lovino didn't care. No-one had asked him to get so monumentally drunk the night before. He turned his attention to Ludwig instead, crossing his arms over his chest and placing the man under a glare. "So here you are."

"Yes," Ludwig cleared his throat again. Finally, he reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a white envelope. "This is for you."

"What the hell is this." Lovino said it like a statement as he reached out and opened it.

It was an invitation card. A hand-cut and decorated invitation card. What in the world…? "Did you make this yourself?" Lovino had to stop himself from laughing.

"Gilbert helped. Why do you think it's so neat?"

That was true. Gilbert was a neat-freak like nothing else.

"I just felt that this was the proper way to do it."

"Do what?"

_Dear Lovino, _

_I would like to extend this invitation for dinner to you. Felicia and I will be throwing a little get-together, just the family. You are of course encouraged to bring along someone, perhaps Emma. I would also like to invite Antonio and Ivan. I understand those two work for you, and you treat everyone who works for you as family as well, which is commendable. _

_At the dinner will be Gilbert, Francis, myself and Felicia, you, Antonio and Ivan. It shall be held on the 26__th__ of this month at 7.00 PM at the Sunset Bistro. _

_We look forward to seeing you, Antonio and Ivan. _

_Warm regards, _

_Ludwig._

"Wow," Lovino said after a moment, lowering the letter. "You couldn't possibly get any more formal if you marched in here with a band of trumpeters and a scroll to read out off."

Ludwig's face pinked. "This is just proper."

"Thanks for the invite," Lovino stated after a moment, folding the card and pocketing it. "What's the occasion?"

"It's just a get-together. I think these things are important, don't you?"

Lovino glanced at Antonio, who was staring blankly into space. "Ludwig, go to the Starbucks down the road and get him a coffee."

"What?" Ludwig glanced at Antonio too, who seemed to have snapped back into reality for a moment, if only to stare at the two of them.

"Your brother made him drunk, so now he's hungover. Get him a coffee."

It felt good to order Ludwig around like that. Something about him just grated at Lovino. Sure, true, he'd never liked any of Feli's boyfriends, but this one just pricked at him like a toothache. Ludwig sighed as he walked off, muttering something about coming back in no time. Lovino turned to look at Antonio, "Do you have plans for the 26th?"

"Hmm?" Antonio's gaze shifted to Lovino's slowly.

"Do. You. Have. Plans. For. The. 26th?"

"Uh, no, of course not. Why would I have plans?"

"Good," Lovino declared quietly. "Because we've all been invited to dinner and you have to help me beat up Ludwig. I think he's going to propose to my sister."

Antonio's eyes brightened. "That's so sweet."

"It's not. We need to kill him."

Antonio chuckled. "I love how protective you are of her. You're like that, you know? Protective. It's wonderful."

Lovino found his face becoming bright red, uncomfortably red. "Sh-shut up. Don't say shit like that. God, just get to work, why don't you?" With that, he turned on his heels and marched back into the kitchen.

"How did it go?" Feli asked with a cheeky grin.

"We have work to do, Felicia."

Lovino heard Ivan snicker.

* * *

**Lovino: Emma.**

**Lovino: Emma, we need to talk.**

_Emma: Yes, yes we do, Lovino._

_Emma: Let's first start with how you assaulted Tim. _

_Emma: And then let's move on to how you insulted me. _

_Emma: This should make for fascinating conversation._

**Lovino: I'm sorry. I really am. I don't know what came over me. I guess the truth is that I'm scared you'll leave me for him. **

_Emma: You're jealous._

**Lovino: Yeah. **

_Emma: Why?_

**Lovino: Because! Because you're always hanging out with him and because you always talk about him and because he's taller and more good-looking and I can't see how you would even want to be with me when you can have him.**

_Emma: I don't know whether to laugh or hit you._

_Emma: But you're being absolutely ridiculous. First of all, you're very attractive yourself. Secondly, I WORK with him, Lovino. Of course I hang out with him. He's a friend of mine. Aren't I allowed to have male friends?_

_Emma: But yes, you're right. I guess I do talk about him a lot, don't I?_

**Lovino: And you cancel our dates to hang out with him. **

_Emma: That's true…I have been doing that._

_Emma: I'm sorry, Lovino. I guess I got carried away. We have a lot in common so I suppose I do find it fun to hang out with him._

_Emma: But yeah, you're right. I haven't been fair on you. I'm sorry. _

**Lovino: I'm sorry too. I've been an asshole.**

**Lovino: Are we okay?**

_Emma: Yeah. Yeah, we are :)_

**Lovino: That's great :)**

_Emma: AN EMOJI! WOW!_

**Lovino: Ha. Ha. Ha.**

**Lovino: Feli and Ludwig are throwing some kind of dinner party thing. Would you like to accompany me?**

_Emma: Of course. I'd love to! _

**Lovino: Great. I have to get back to work now, but I'll text you the details later.**

_Emma: Looking forward to it :) Love you._

**Lovino: Love you too.**

* * *

"Wine?"

That evening, Lovino sat on the awning as he always did, staring at the town and the lights and the river, thinking about Emma. He felt better about her now. Calmer. Everything would be all right.

He turned slightly to see Antonio holding two glasses of wine. He was grinning as he stepped out onto the awning as well and sat beside Lovino.

"Really? More alcohol?"

Antonio giggled. "I feel better now so I thought I'd reward myself."

Lovino took one of the glasses from him. "Glad to see you've made some friends." Taking a small sip, he regarded Antonio silently. Antonio looked quiet right now. As in, he wasn't radiating such an aura of tragic chaos. He looked silent and peaceful as he stared out into the town.

He didn't respond to Lovino's statement at all. Instead, he smiled as he took a sip of wine and asked, "Is it true? Are Feli and Ludwig really going to get married?"

Lovino grimaced. "I think he's going to ask her. Or he's already asked her, and he's just going to announce it to all of us. Or something."

"You don't really like him, do you? Is it something he's done?"

"No, not really. Ludwig treats her well. She's very happy with him, so that's a good thing." Lovino paused and then sighed. "You want to know the truth?"

"Yeah, sure." Antonio tilted his head to one side and smiled at Lovino.

"My problem with Ludwig is that he and I are too fucking similar."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, like me, he's ambitious and capable. That's great. But he's also shy and he doesn't know how to deal with his emotions and he gets awkward and embarrassed too fucking easily. That's my problem. Apart from the fact that Felicia is dating someone who is so much like her brother—I mean, isn't that creepy?—I'm not exactly the best role model."

"What are you talking about, Lovino?" Antonio widened his eyes, lowering the glass.

Lovino sighed again. "I mean, like I said, I'm shy and awkward and easily embarrassed. Some people think I'm not shy, but that's just because I scare them off with my cussing and my general asshole-ness. Too much emotion freaks me out, and it freaks Ludwig out too. And Feli, you know, she's very open with her feelings. I just worry about how happy she'll be with someone who has a problem expressing himself. You know, _long term_. Everything's perfect when you're dating someone, but if you marry them, you're kind of stuck with them, you know? The obligation to make things work is much stronger. And I just don't Feli to feel pressured into staying with him if she's not happy. That's what I worry about. I rather wish she'd have chosen to date someone like—I don't know, you, maybe."

Antonio started to laugh. "_Me_?"

"Yeah. I mean, don't get me wrong, you're secretive to the point where it's fucking annoying."

Antonio cringed.

Lovino rolled his eyes. "But you're also really bad at being secretive. You slip up on the little things. So I know now that you're into music, that you know a lot of classical music terms, that you know how to make websites, all that stuff. My point is, you're not good at hiding things, and neither is Feli. So if you're feeling something, it's likely to show and you're far more likely to express it."

Antonio laughed again. "That's not true. At all. I've never been good at being honest with myself. Or anyone else, for that matter."

"What are you hiding?" Lovino lowered his glass, turned and fully faced Antonio. "Tell me what happened to you."

Antonio's smile was faint and tired. "Okay. I'll tell you one thing. Only one thing."

It was better than nothing.

"I used to work at a music store."

"Which one?"

"A really popular one. In the city. Music is the one thing that makes sense to me. It's not like words or painting or anything complicated like that. Everyone understands music. Everyone loves it. People may not love to read or may not love to stare at artwork, but music is something universal. It's the great equaliser. I don't believe there's anything more amazing than making music. The people who can make original music—not like me. I mean, I know how to play a guitar and stuff, but I've never done anything original—creators, you know? I think creators of music are perhaps the finest magicians the human race could ever hope to have."

In the glow of the city lights and the moon, Antonio's face looked tired and sad. But there was something about it. Perhaps a spark of life. That was what Lovino was seeing. For the first time since he'd known Antonio, he was witnessing something resembling passion. It was more powerful than even his performance at the _Bluebell Pub _last night. This went deeper. It was more real.

And Lovino was drawn to it. He understood it. He knew what it was like to feel so powerfully about something that others couldn't hope to understand. It was one thing to love something, to enjoy something, but Lovino loved even the grunge work, the dreariness that came with any field.

"There's something about musical instruments in particular," Antonio went on, eyes far away. "It amazes me, how these _objects—_really, just wood and metal, sometimes a few wires—can create something that everyone can connect to, everyone can love. It's just a bit of physics and electronics, really, but look at what they're capable of. An idealist musician would say that the instruments don't matter as much as, say, the talent or the passion of the artist. But a good one would know that the instruments are just as important. The musician and his machines, they're a team. Like your kitchen and all its gadgets. It would still take an exceptional chocolatier to make exceptional chocolates, but you can't deny that the right equipment is really important."

Lovino had finished his wine, but Antonio's glass was still half-full. The night was still quite young, wasn't it?

"Hey," Lovino said suddenly. Antonio looked at him. "Do you want to help me make the praline? The one for the contest?"

Antonio frowned slightly, curious. "You mean that recipe that you're sure will win?"

"Yeah. I haven't made it yet. I keep getting nervous. But do you think…do you think you'd like to help me try?"

"Tonight?"

"Now."

Antonio lowered his glass. "Yeah. Let's do that. Let's make this thing."

* * *

"So I'd kept the beans to roast all morning."

"Let me handle it, don't worry."

They worked in silence, mostly. Lovino gave the occasional order and Antonio followed it flawlessly. He'd ask a question here or there, but otherwise, it was pretty seamless. It felt better, too. Safer. Because each time Lovino doubted his recipe, Antonio would smile at him and tell him it was going to be amazing. Just having another person around made things more bearable.

The hours passed. Lovino was tired. He hadn't been sleeping very often, staying up late to tweak this recipe around some more. He could never make too many changes because he had no idea what the chocolate would even taste like. To make a change, he had to understand what the original was.

So for now, Lovino stuck to the original recipe. Antonio was pretty impressed that Lovino could make edible glitter from scratch, which made Lovino smirk a bit. For once, Lovino's mind wasn't screaming obscenities at him. He was working, and he was happy with what he was doing. This was how it was supposed to be.

And then they took the mould tray out of the freezer at four in the morning, laid it on the counter, peeled out the chocolates and carefully sprinkled the glitter at their base. This was happening. This was actually happening.

Lovino stared at the finished product, heart pumping louder than he ever thought it could. Antonio let out a low whistle at the glittery little chocolates. This was exactly how Lovino had imagined it.

"You did it," Antonio whispered, keeping his voice low out of what seemed like reverence.

"We did it," Lovino corrected, not taking his eyes away from the line of little pralines.

"Take a bite."

"I should, shouldn't I?" Lovino's voice was breathy. He'd done it. He'd finally made this chocolate, this thing that had been torturing him for so long.

"Yeah."

"Let's both take one." Lovino picked up one chocolate gingerly and handed it to Antonio. He picked up another and raised it to his lips. "At the count of three. One…

"Two…

"Three."

Antonio put the whole thing in his mouth while Lovino bit it in half. The taste that flooded his tongue was—nice. It was somewhere on the bittersweet continuum. Quite a pleasant flavour. The coffee liqueur was a good idea. It was a well-made praline.

"I…like it," Antonio said after a moment, swallowing and smacking his lips. "It was nice."

"Nice, yeah," Lovino agreed, putting the rest of the chocolate in his mouth. He met Antonio's eyes, and the other man looked a little but unconvinced. Lovino understood that expression too well. He swallowed, let the taste linger on his tongue for a moment, and then said, "Did you think it was maybe a little…?"

"Plain?"

"Yeah. Boring. Forgettable."

"Um, yeah, I did, actually." Antonio regarded Lovino with a look of open guilt. "Sorry."

"No, no, this is good." Lovino took a deep, shuddering breath and let it out. Easy, slowly. "Now we know where to begin. Now, we can make improvements."

* * *

_You're too happy._

SHUT. UP.

NOT ANOTHER WORD.

I've had it up to here. I'm done. I'm happy and I'm moving on with my life and you can't convince me otherwise. You are nothing more than my conscience lashing out at me, so here's what I say to you: Enough. Is. Enough.

I'm done being guilty. I'm done listening to you. I'm happy, I like it here, and I am moving on. So shut up, Conscience. No, your name is NOT Roderich. Because Roderich would NEVER say such awful things to me all the time. Roderich would NEVER want me to kill myself. He would want me to carry on living.

And I'm doing that.

So shut up and good night.

* * *

**A/N: Yaaaaay, this chapter was giving me so much trouble, you don't even know. If you're interested in another Spamano, I've written this new fic called **_**We the Dreamers**_**. I'd be delighted if you checked it out. **

**Thanks so much for reading :D Please review! **


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